Sectumsempra and Self-Esteem
by desked.fence
Summary: Can a girl with a broken heart really be fixed by a broken man? Snape realizes Hermione is spiralling down a dark path. Will he help her, or will his actions push her further into the darkness? Warning: self-harm and abuse triggers. Not for the faint-hearted. Set in seventh year.
1. 1 A boy or a gentleman?

A boy or a gentleman

" _We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."_ Albus Dumbledore, Half-Blood Prince

 _"I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done..."_ Hermione, Half-Blood Prince

* * *

Hermione was called a Know-It-All, but she would be the first to admit that she didn't know it all, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, she could name two things she really didn't know anything about:

1\. Quidditch.

2\. Boys.

You see, you couldn't learn about these things by reading about them, you had to do them. Not literally, 'do' a boy, that's not what she meant. Or was it? It didn't matter. At the end of the day, she knew what she wanted, but she just didn't know _how_ to go about getting it. She felt like she was trapped in a glass house by the beach, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make it to the sea to swim.

But one, gloomy day, that glass broke, or seemed to show a crack at least. The trouble was, it cracked on a night that was dark and stormy, and the line where the shore met the sea couldn't be seen.

She loved him. Of that she was certain, as certain as she knew that, eventually, Harry would either live or die in this war. None of them may make it out alive. So why should they waste time?

She had tried hard to make her feelings clear. But she felt he wasn't interested. But that night, _he_ had made his feelings clear _Hadn't he?_

A chilling meeting at Grimmauld place was when it happened. The Head members of the Order were all ashen faced, their tone leaving no room for jokes or even questions. Their seventh year at Hogwarts would be no ordinary year. During that meeting, Dumbledore had remained silent. His hand, now completely black for reasons known only by few, served to remind them all that The Darkness was slowly but surely spreading and would take them all: even the Strongest Wizard of their Time. There was no twinkle in the Headmaster's eye, just a steely expression that made it clear that everyone present in the room had a role to play and there was no backing out now.

As soon as the meeting had adjourned, Hermione watched as Harry bolted out the room and felt her already heavy heart collapse at the sound of him slamming his bedroom door. She knew that now was no time to wallow in her emotions, that now was the time for her Gryffindor courage to save the day and make her a source of strength and comfort for Harry, but the fear and sadness was too much: the prospect that they would lose not only the war but each other was all too real.

Instead, she found herself in the garden, not even noticing the unusual coldness of the summer's night that had sent her body into shivers. She hugged herself, and told herself that she would allow this one moment of fear, of weakness, and when she turned round and went back in the house she would be Hermione, The Brightest Witch of Their Time.

But that was when he came.

His familiar scent filled the night, letting her know it was him before he reached her. He had started wearing more and more cologne recently. Hermione had hoped it was for her, and that night, she felt like she had that confirmation. When he wrapped his arms around her waist, his front pressed against her back, she didn't move or flinch, even though he had never held her like that before.

When he whispered in her ear: 'Are you ok?' Her resolve to remain strong shattered into pieces, making her body wrack with tears. No, she wasn't ok. Would she be strong enough, brave enough, clever enough for this task?

She turned around to cry into his chest which he graciously permitted as he wrapped his arms around her body, his tall frame reassuringly protecting her from the glaring lights of the house.

She didn't want their bodies to part. She was simultaneously so sad about the war-filled future, but - selfishly perhaps - so grateful that this terrible war brought them together.

Or so she thought.

Eventually, they made their way back to the now quiet house and climbed the stairs to their rooms. It was then Hermione had silently pleaded him to spend the night. Yes, Ginny was asleep in her room. But she couldn't face being alone, not now that they had found each other, not now when a faint promise of hope teased its way into the most likely dark, gloomy future.

She held on to his hand as they entered. Ginny was asleep; there was nothing for them to do apart from sleep as well. And so she had laid on the bed and he did too, gently pressing her against his body.

To have someone to hold at night. An old cliché, the loss of which was mourned over in songs by desperate people who didn't know how to be independent or control their feelings. That is what Hermione had thought before she experienced the sheer bliss of reassurance a warm body could bring.

But it wasn't for long, when she woke up, he was gone. She was back in the glass house again, and in the light of the morning, the crack he had made had only served to make her view more and more unclear. He didn't acknowledge what had happened. He didn't hold her the way he had held her that night again. In fact, he didn't even look at her again for the rest of the summer. The scent of his cologne became fainter, its now subtle remnants that had clung to his clothes only reminded her of what she had lost.

At first, Hermione thought that's probably how it should be. But then she realised: no straight male would deny the pleasure of sleeping next to a girl given the opportunity. What's more, not straight male would ever sleep next to a girl and not _try_ _something, anything_ beyond a hug. That's what all the books she had read had said. Teenagers wee horny. Wasn't he a hormonal teenage boy with needs? Then why hadn't he tried anything? Was he being a gentleman?

She was desperate for answers to these questions; she had tried to get him alone, to ask what had happened, whether she had done anything wrong. But he would always make a half-hearted excuse and leave.

He hadn't been capable of staying the whole night next to her. And he couldn't stand the sight of her now.

When Hermione realised this, she hugged her own body, for the first time really understanding how woefully inadequate she was. And, she felt that for the first time, she really had understood boys.

Teenage boys like Ronald Weasley were simply not interested in girls that looked like Hermione Granger.

But this was the twenty-first century. She was more than her body. She loved him. Surely that counted for something?


	2. 2 Sectumsempra

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joanne K. Rowling.

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading so far! I would really appreciate feedback, so please do leave a review :)**

* * *

'SECTUMSEMPRA!' bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword.

The door banged open behind Harry and he looked up, terrified: Snape had burst into the room, his face livid.

 _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

* * *

"Sectum - "  
Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again.  
"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince!"

 _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

* * *

Hermione had been wrong to wait for Ron's signal to discuss what had happened. This was the modern day: a girl didn't have to wait for the boy to make the first move.

Finally, they had left Grimmauld Place. Finally, there was a chance for the awkwardness between her and Ron to be over. Tonight the spell of silence which had shrouded the nature of their relationship would finally be broken. That was what Hermione intended to do.

It was September. The seventh years had moved back to Hogwart's two days early to sort out their NEWT timetables and apprenticeship applications for life post-school. Tonight was the unofficial annual seventh-year party when the Professors, as per tradition, would turn a blind eye to any unauthorized absences from the castle. A night-club down a dark Hogsmeade alley was awaiting their presence.

For one night, they would forget the war. For one night, Hermione Granger would try her best and forget the pangs of guilt telling her she should be back home studying or doing research for the Hocruxes. Tonight she would have fun. And tonight would be the night where she would finally tell Ron how she felt.

She knew she had to make changes for him to see her as something more than a friend. After much research, she had done everything she could possibly think of.

Her lips had lipstick, her eyes were turned catlike by mascara and eyeliner, and her face had been made to look like one even colour which contrasted with the darkness of her eyes and lips. The book she had read had said this contrast was attractive to the male eye. She had also made sure there was a curve in her waist, that her breasts looked as big as possible and that her lips had slightly too much lipstick to make it look poutier.

Yes, she had done everything by the book.

Hermione sighed as her made-up eyes stared back at her in the mirror.

Would he know that she had done all of this for him? Or would he not notice at all? Or worse, would it look like she had tried too hard?

There was a distant flush of a lavatory before a whirl of glossy red hair appeared.

'Come on, Hermione, you've hogged the mirror for ages.'

Ginny practically pushed Hermione out of her chair. But Hermione didn't have time to feel offended, the knot of worry in her stomach overriding all other emotion. Instead, Hermione turned to the window, basking in the copper glow of the sun. The last remaining remnants of summer were still left in the air. Hermione breathed in deeply, hoping she could hold on to the promises that the nearly setting sun brought just for a little while longer.

'It's been ages since I've done anything fun with Harry,' Ginny sighed wistfully.

After much pleading on Ginny's part and after much planning, the Golden Trio had miraculously managed to sneak her with them, hoping the wrath of Mrs Weasley would be dealt with by a simple howler.

Hermione turned away from the window to look at her best friend. Ginny was beautiful, her features, her figure, everything. She had blossomed into something enchanting.

Hermione hugged her own figure tightly. She had come to realise that boys weren't after her the way they were after Ginny. It was times like these she thanked Godric Gryffindor that Ron and Ginny were siblings.

A smile began to grow on Hermione's face, as if the mere remembrance of his red hair were flames warming her heart.

'Ginny, have I ever told you that you're stunning?'

'Thanks.'

Ginny's eyes never left her own reflection. She knew the fact well.

Hermione looked at the grandfather clock which chimed half past the hour. She stepped into her high heeled shoes, clutching the bedpost as she attempted to establish her balance.

With a last spray of perfume and check in the mirror, they were soon clattering down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade. The vertigo of her high-heeled shoes, coupled with hormones and the promise of the night ahead, made Hermione feel queasy; Ginny, on the other hand, was simply excited. Hermione suddenly deeply wished that her and Ron's "relationship" could one day be as simple as Ginny and Harry's.

As they reached the venue, Hermione felt her heart begin to pound intensely and her hands nervously tried to make sure her curls were still in place and her dress still in order. And, at that moment, she finally understood the source of all the clichéd worries girls were meant to have about hair, makeup, and clothes: it was all because they wanted to impress a boy, and boy did she want to impress Ron. She didn't care if it was obvious. She wanted to be with him. More than anything in the world.

The stars above them twinkled amongst a now dark, velvety blue sky. Hermione glanced up to them briefly, praying to them that she looked good enough for him.

As they entered, the party was already alive with music, chatter, and dancing. The lights were bright enough to see one another, but dim enough for everyone to dance without fear of being judged.

'Can you see Harry?' Ginny was on her tip toes, searching.

'No.' Truth was, Hermione was looking for a certain other boy. Her eyes swept across the room until they finally rested on a tall, skinny frame crowned with a blaze of red. He was standing next to an equally tall dark haired boy, both wearing shirts and black trousers.

'There they are.' Hermione said, her heart beating painfully slow. In order not to show her nerves, she grabbed Ginny's hand and confidently lead the way.

'Hey!' she said brightly as she came up to her two best friends who were standing by the bar, drinks in hand. Harry and Ron fell silent mid-conversation. They sipped their drinks silently and eyed the two girls. Hermione felt herself blush in the silence. If they thought she looked nice, surely they would have said something. But Ron's gaze was firmly fixed on Ginny.

'Finally, what the bloody hell kept you so long? And what the hell do you think you're wearing, Ginny?' asked Ron as he took another sip of his drink.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow, 'Oh, Ron, please.'

'No, you listen to me – do you know what wearing a dress like that means? What kind of signal it sends out?'

'For Merlin's sake,' Ginny rolled her eyes, and linked her arm into Harry's who was standing with a sheepish expression on his face. 'Don't worry, Harry will protect me.' Harry shrugged apologetically at Ron before he let Ginny steer him to the dance floor.

Ron, meanwhile, cursed under his breath, sipped his drink with furrowed brows, and fixed his gaze resolutely at all their friends who were dancing and laughing.

She didn't know why, and she knew it was irrational, but Hermione suddenly felt extremely jealous of Ginny.

Apart from when she had arrived, he hadn't looked at her once.

'Don't worry about Ginny,' she began, but still he did not look at her. She wanted to touch him, this man, this boy, that had been in her bed just a few weeks ago – but she couldn't. That solid, nearly invisible glass barrier was between them again. But tonight was about breaking these barriers. Tonight, they would finally admit they liked each other. And tomorrow, they would work as a stronger team than ever to help Harry.

This was it. This was war, there was no time for silly teenage angst.

She took a deep breath.

'Ron, are you ok? Would you like to dance?' Her tone was much more authoritative and bossy-sounding than she would've liked.

Suddenly, Ron tipped his neck back and downed his drink in one. He then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, before turning towards Hermione, his expression icy.

'I'm not some fucking charity case house-elf, Hermione.' He slammed his empty glass on the bar and then left a bewildered Hermione as she watched him disappear into the crowd.

She couldn't compute his reaction, his complete and utter rejection. Not one bit. Instead; her whole body tensed as she tried to fight back any feelings of sadness or distress. But try as she might, she couldn't force her face to smile or chest to stop breathing so hard.

The fast music and the colourful lights of the dance floor faded to a haze, a distant nightmare she was trying to wake up from. But when Neville asked her to dance, she did, even though every part of her felt like stone.

She saw Neville's mouth moving, but she couldn't hear him; the concerned look on his face forced her to pull herself together and concentrate on him.

'Hermione! Are you ok?!'

She put an arm on his shoulder and squeezed it. 'Never been better!' she said in what she hoped was a cheerful tone. But there was no use, she could no longer pretend to enjoy dancing with him.

There was only one boy she wanted to dance with that night.

She graciously departed from Neville and almost aimlessly got lost in the crowd.

She knew where she had to be. With him.

And she found him.

If her surroundings and the music had been a blur before, now everything was pitch black and silent, save for a hum of white noise, and the image of Ron dancing –dancing with a girl.

For a moment, Hermione thought she was dreaming or having an outer body experience – how could she be in two places at once? How could she be _watching_ herself dance with Ron _and_ _be_ _dancing_ with Ron at the same time?

She stood puzzling this conundrum as the white noise became sharper and the scene before her crystal clear.

And then she realized: that black, silky, shiny hair did not belong to her. There were no arms around _her_ waist. And when Ron raised his hands to cup the girl's face, she felt no fingers on her cheeks, and _her_ feet did not go on tiptoes for her to meet his face as Ron bent down and parted his lips…

Ron was not kissing her.

He was kissing Lavender.

The white noise turned to a piercing beep, and the surroundings, which had once been dark, burst into a million, unbearable flashing lights.

Ron's eyes opened and locked with Hermione's, as if he didn't want to miss the moment when her heart split into two.

The truth cut her like an axe felling a tree in one blow:

Ron simply wasn't attracted to her.

 _And why would a guy like Ron be attracted to a girl like her?_

No longer able to look at the pair, she spun around and immediately fell into a strong pair of hands.

'Too much to drink, Granger?' It was Draco. Steadying herself by grabbing his arms, she finally stood up, her legs shaking, her chest heaving.

'No! The opposite! Not enough!' she shouted in what she hoped was a cheery-sort-of way. Draco gave her a quizzical look. He was holding her and she was still holding on to him.

'Be a gent and get me another drink?' She said in her best cockney accent. What banter! What a lark she was! She hadn't even had one drink let alone another!

Draco looked thoroughly worried or perhaps disturbed. Realsing she was digging her fingers into him, she loosened her grip on him and steadied herself on her own feet.

'Okay,' he said slowly. 'Stay right there.'

Shaking from head to foot, she nodded. As soon as he was gone, Hermione calmly - so as to not to draw attention to herself - ran to the exit.

The cool night only heightened her dizziness and the tightness in her chest; she was sure her lungs would shut down and she would collapse at any moment. All she knew was she had to make it to the apparition point, and she had to make it back to Hogwart's.

But once she was back in the castle, the state of her room only made things worse. The makeup strewn across her dressing table and bed, once used to paint a hopeful "new her", now only served to remind her how spectacularly her fake mask had cracked. Everything she had believed in, wished for, longed for was wrong and fake. The only barrier that had been broken tonight was her illusions which separated her from the reality.

She couldn't ignore reality now that it had punched her in the gut.

She had never been good enough for Ron. No amount of makeup or new clothes was going to change that. How had she not seen it?

 _You silly, foolish girl. You're an idiot, a fucking idiot._

She had thought she was going to get through the year, helping Harry defeat Voldemort, with Ron – her and Ron behind Harry, all three of them against the world…

But it was all in her head. Ron never really liked her…he must've just pitied her, all this time… Did Harry pity her too? Isn't that why they made friends with her in the first place? Out of pity?

She thanked God everyone was at the party. Her lips were trembling like they had a life of their own as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face, her chest heaving. Her vision became blurry from the tears. She fell into her four poster bed, pulling the velvet curtains around her, as if her life depended on not being seen.

Hermione was the brightest witch Hogwart's had seen in decades. So how could she have been so stupid? She thought she was so smart, that Ron liked her, that she could actually be of use and help Harry…

But she had been so spectacularly wrong.

 _I'm a fool…_

Everything was collapsing, her emotions, her thoughts, were swallowing her up whole.

She didn't know why she said it, she didn't know why she remembered this spell out of all the others. All she knew was that she wanted out, she wanted to forget, she didn't want anything anymore.

Like a prayer, her lips whispered:

'Sectumsempra…'

* * *

:D Please, please review! It would mean a lot.


	3. That darned cloak

Dawn seemed to follow midnight with indecent haste.

 _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

* * *

Shrill screaming, pleading and flashes of green light plagued Snape's dreams as they did every night.

That particular night, however, the sound of people crying and cruel laughter suddenly became drowned and far removed as a monotonous beep trespassed Snape's nightmares.

He opened his eyes.

It took him a few minutes to realise that he, Severus Snape, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Prfessor of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Dark Lord's and Albus Dumbledore's right hand man, was safe in the comfort of his four poster bed. He suddenly felt sick, the shelter of his dark green curtains sickened him - the people in his dreams were still burning in crimson flames.

The beeping noise grew louder. Snape slowly realised it was an alarm – the Potion's Store Room alarm. So rarely had it been raised that Snape had forgotten to pass it on to Slughorn, the new Potion's Master.

A fleeting bitterness ran through him as he recalled the time when the Boomslang Skin had gone missing – the only ingredient to have ever eluded his tight control. The frustration of knowing Potter was behind it - of Potter disregarding school rules, escaping punishment yet again - briefly flared inside him.

 _He's just like James, thinks regulations should apply to everyone but him…_

He took a deep breath, once again gaining control of his thoughts. None of that mattered at the moment. Whoever it was prowling around at this time, was in more trouble than they could ever imagine: stealing school property, out of their dorms in the early hours of the morning…and just think of all the points he could deduct if it were a Gryffindor…

With a sneer curling about his lips, he swiftly got out of bed. Severus Snape was never one to pass up the opportunity of confiscating that darned cloak out of the Potter lineage.

* * *

Hermione had awoken to find dried blood on her arm and deep, red cuts. Had she fallen asleep? Had she lost consciousness? She didn't know. She didn't care.

Her arm felt heavy and was throbbing at a painstakingly slow pace. She was dizzy, the memory of the past few hours dim. But amidst her jumbled thoughts, there was one thing she could clearly remember: Ron kissing Lavender.

She felt a wave of pain tighten her chest again.

For a few blissful moments she had been free from this feeling, free from the pain. She couldn't go on like this. Her head reeled.

She peeled herself from the sticky red sheets. What a mess. With a few silent spells, she waved away the blood.

Her sheets were once again pure white, its cold, clinical cleanliness sending shivers through her.

With shaking hands she grabbed the bedpost and balanced herself on her feet, black spots staining her vision.

Not quite knowing where her feet were leading her, she stumbled into the boys' dormitory and prised out Harry's Invisibility cloak from a jumble of clothes in his trunk. Ron's familiar snore made her heart grow painfully tighter.

With her head still spinning, she disappeared out of Gryffindor tower.

She sprinted through the corridors, hardly knowing where she was going, weaving through ghosts and leaving suits of armour feeling the cold rush of wind in her wake.

The door leading to the Potion's Store Room had many spells, enchantments and puzzles to keep it locked away from nosy students. Hermione broke everyone of one of them as easily as shooing away a fly.

She frantically bustled into the tiny store room. She barely knew what she was looking for, but she knew she needed something, something to intoxicate and numb her. Or to simply relieve the pain in her throbbing arm.

It was then she sensed she wasn't alone. Feeling dizzy again, she hugged the invisibility cloak tighter before turning round.

That dark, bat-like silhouette could only be one person...

'Game over, Potter.'

His cool, deep voice sent shivers down her spine. She suddenly realised Harry's cloak was no longer big enough to cover her feet...

There was nothing else for it.

Snape's tall frame was blocking the exit entirely. Hermione had no other choice. With all the strength she could muster, she ran towards him, hoping to knock him out with force.

* * *

The feet he saw disappeared, and Snape felt something solid ram into him. It barley managed to knock him back a few milimeteres, but the impact made his reflexes respond instantly. He wrestled the figure with a vice like grip to the floor.

When your enemy is invisible, you can take no chances.

In the bustle the cloak slipped off the perpetrator, revealing a tumble of messy brown hair.

A moment of one of those silences passed where every split second felt like an eternity. He did not see Potter's scrawny frame, tussled hair, glasses askew, like he longed for.

'Granger?' he whispered, barely hiding the streak of puzzlement in his voice.

Hermione's eyes were wide with fear; his face was mere inches away from hers.

He thought it was some sort of trick of the guttering torch lights or some other antic of Potter's. But he soon realised that the body pressed underneath him was definitely not that of a boy's.

Both of them were breathing hard, their hearts still racing from the wrestling match they'd had.

A rosy blush crept along the girl's cheeks as Snape realised he was far too close to his student.

'Granger, would you care to tell me what is so urgent that you had to break into the Potion's Cupboard at the 4 a.m. and disturb my sleep?' he hissed bitterly before letting her go hastily.

Snape rose to his feet again looking at her floating head with a mixture of hatred and disgust.

She looked seriously ill, her face a deathly shade of white.

'Perhaps a trip to Madam Pomfrey may be needed to check your sanity-'

'-no, professor, that won't be necessary-'

'-I'm afraid, Miss Granger, you do not have much choice in the matter- '

In an instant she had disappeared behind that darned cloak again.

The Professor was not going to play hide and seek with an invisible seventh year.

'PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!' he roared sending a huge wave of gold sparks across the room.

When he heard her slump to the ground and saw her bodiless feet by the door, Snape wondered whether he had been too harsh. It certainly wouldn't look good for him if the girl had hurt herself.

He strode across to her still feet that were lying on the floor. Once and for all, he would confiscate that darned cloak.

He tentatively reached into nothingness until he felt the silvery liquid of the cloak beneath his hands. Slowly, he pulled it back, first revealing her head.

'Professor, please, just let me go.'

Her tone made him stop his actions. Was that desperation in her voice? He wasn't used to his students pleading with him and he certainly wasn't used to it from Hermione Jane Granger.

He felt her tremble beneath him. But under his spell, there was nothing she could do.

As her dark brown eyes locked with his, it suddenly occurred to him there had been a reason she had come here in the first place.

He began peeling off the cloak, more slowly, as if unveiling a forbidden sculpture. She was wearing an emerald green dress, her curves accentuated by the soft fabric. Her legs and arms were smooth and bare.

Almost.

Bare, save those great, deep, red cuts.

They were no ordinary cuts.

The lines had made swirling traces, like coiled snakes.

They were no ordinary cuts.

 _Sectumsempra._

They were his cuts.

Snape felt as if the past had punched him in the stomach. It was _his_ spell, one he had created years ago when he was a teenager. It was a piece of dark magic that couldn't be further from falling under the category of "Ministry approved".

He felt his hand tighten around his wand. Who had unearthed it? Who was using it on her and why?

'Who did this to you?' his voice an unsympathetic, harsh whisper. His eyes freely roamed her body again, making her blush once again. She had clearly been out to a party.

The cuts looked as if they were crawling like snakes. A deep-seated wave of emotion surged inside him. He tore his eyes away from the girl and took a deep breath, scared of losing his composure entirely.

'See to it that you lose your Gryffindor stupidity and make your way to Madam Pomfrey,' he hissed through barred teeth.

* * *

At his order, Hermione disappeared like lightning out of the room, Harry's cloak trailing behind her. She wanted to put as far distance between her and Snape's penetrating gaze as possible.

Hermione had felt herself shiver as he saw the look on Snape's face. Was it disgust? Hatred? It looked more as if he was scared though. But scared of what? Hermione reasoned that he was just disgusted at the sight of her.

 _With a figure like mine…_

But she had bigger things to worry about now. Did he know that she had done this to herself? He obviously didn't, otherwise he wouldn't have asked for the perpetrator. She closed her eyes.

What had she done? How could she have been so stupid as to use a Dark spell on herself? Yes, she had momentarily felt relief. But now what? Is that what she wanted? To nearly kill herself and be expelled from school?

No. This was not like her at all. But then again, she didn't know who she was anymore.

The old Hermione would never have been stupid enough to fall in love with a boy who was clearly not interested in her. The old Hermione wouldn't have been so desperate for male attention that the way her Professor looked at her would make her blush.

Out of everything that had happened that night, that was what she was most ashamed of. Feeling him against her, seeing his eyes roam her body had made her heart beat faster. There was no denying it now: she was just a horny teenager.

The thought made her sick with shame and she rushed into the ensuite toilet of her dorm. Sliding against the wall, she fell to the cold stone floor. Sobs were heaving in her chest.

She felt like a fool. She was meant to be the most intelligent witch in her year…but there was no denying it now, her secret was out. _Hermione Granger is a stupid, desperate slut._

She tried to take a few calming breaths but tears kept on spilling down her cheeks. Control was beyond her reach… well, almost. As her fingers curled around her wand, the spell spilled out of her lips again.

'Sectumsempra….'

She swore it would be the last time she used the spell.

* * *

Snape retired to his chambers feeling shaken; an unusual state for the Professor to be in. Hermione Granger - another victim to add to his ever growing list.

He was glad he had caught her when he did though. The spell was bound by dark magic and would leave the victim feeling magically and physically weak if not treated properly.

The last time Snape had seen the spell – _his_ spell - was when Potter had attacked Malfoy with it.

Had Potter attacked her with it too? Unlikely. Did Malfoy attack her? Was the spell spreading?

He didn't know, and as he shut his eyes wishing for a nightmare free night, he prayed that come morning, he wouldn't care as well.

After all, what was another stain on an already black soul.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!**


	4. The Six S Plan

_"There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other"_

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

* * *

Hermione Granger would not let a boy destroy her. She kept up appearances. She dressed well, she smiled, she laughed, she joked. She avoided Ron like the plague and it appeared as if he were employing the same tactic.

Thanks to Mcgonagall pulling a few strings, this year she only shared her Dorm with Ginny and not Parvati or Lav-Lav. But Ginny hadn't mentioned the night, and try as Hermione might, it seemed the moment was never right to bring up the fact that her best friend's brother had betrayed her.

Or she felt like he had. She didn't know anymore. They had never been an item, after all.

The more nights she spent agonizing over what had happened, the more she realized the problem was with her: in all these years why had only Krum made a move on her? Did any guy see her as a girl? Was the problem not just her looks but her personality too?

Wallow in her misery she would not. It was a new term and a new beginning. It was time to go back to the basics. The books she had read about how to attract the opposite sex couldn't have been wrong. Books were rarely wrong; it was only that she had not applied the advice properly.

So she had devised a strategy called the Six S Plan or SSSSSS: Sleek & Shine, Shorter Skirt, and Skip Supper.

Six S. Six S. Six S.

If you said it fast enough, it sounded like 'success'. Knowing that she was doing everything in her power to look as attractive as possible was the only thing getting her through the day.

What's more, she had nearly forgotten the incident with Snape, and she had reasoned that her attraction towards her Professor had been a momentary lack of judgment due to her confused feelings.

Yes, everything was fine. She was fine. She was taking control of her sexuality. And that was great.

She just thanked Godric Gryffindor that the Autumn was particularly cold this year, meaning she could wear her school robes all the time and hide her scar-stained skin.

* * *

It was the third day of the new term and it was third time that Snape noticed Granger had not attended dinner. It annoyed him greatly that he should register such a fact. Still, that Wednesday evening he arose from dinner early, deciding to make a quick detour to the Hospital Wing before he retired to his chamber.

'Evening, Severus.'

'Good evening, Poppy.'

'Don't tell me you've visited You-Know-Who again,' the nurse's voice was a soft alarmed whisper 'you were only there last week!'

'No, Poppy. I'm not fortunate enough to be granted his presence twice in one week.' His voice was so flat, it was hard to detect his sarcasm.

'Just as well, I really don't have the heart to see wounds like that again…'

Poppy's eyes swept Severus' torso knowingly; underneath that cloak there was skin that held the scars of years' worth of torture by the Dark Lord's hand.

'Actually, that's why I'm here. I've run out of healing balm. Would you care to give me some more?'

'Certainly,' and in a flash Madame Pomfrey was gone.

Severus knew he only had a few minutes before she came back. Her office was full of confidential documents but he only needed one thing.

 _Accio Sign-in Sheet_

With in an instant a wedge of paper flew his way. His fingers worked deftly through the pile.

September 16

…Collin Creevy, 9 am

George Thompson 12:33 pm

Pansy Parkison 5.55pm….

…..

September 17

Jennifer Higgins 7 pm….

Snape quickly went through page after page of tedious names until he reached the present day's list. One thing was sure: "Hermione Granger" had not appeared once.

Snape put the list in an inconspicuous place on the cluttered desk. Poppy returned within seconds.

'Here you are Severus.'

Without a word of thanks, he left.

 _What does that Granger girl think she's playing at?_ Snape felt something akin to fury unfurl inside him. He had made it clear that she should go the Hospital Wing. The cuts she had were not like any normal cut, as the creator of the spell, he should know.

Snape stormed down the corridor, his cloak billowing behind him. He barked at a first year for smiling too broadly and, before reaching his chambers, he had managed to knock a total of 175 points off Gryffindor.

Why wasn't the girl at dinner? How the hell was he going to make her go to the hospital wing without implicating himself in the whole thing?


	5. Everything's Fine

**Warning: self-harm. abuse, suicide triggers.**

 **A/N: Hi everyone thank you for following/reviewing! I would really appreciate your feedback, as it makes me feel like I'm not posting into thin air :D I hope this story helps anyone going through / has gone through something similar. Enjoy! x**

 **Everything's fine**

All Hermione cared about was that the whole of Hogwart's knew that she was fine: she was gorgeous and beautiful and young, and beyond the stone walls of the castle she was someone spectacular. She could drop everything and go into the Muggle world and she would thrive. She didn't need anyone or anything. Certainly not Ron.

Yes, everything was fine.

Except, when she woke up and saw she had double Defence Against the Dark Arts with Snape that morning, her heart skipped and then started beating erratically. She was so affected by this prospect that she didn't even see Ron and Lavender feeding each other at Breakfast. When, finally, the happy couple did catch her eye, the pain was nothing in comparison to the panic - or excitement? - of seeing Snape again.

It was as if her mind had latched on to her Dark Professor in order to defend itself against the pain of losing Ron. But this defence system felt like an attack in itself.

That day, Hermione skipped breakfast and went to her room to make sure she looked ok and to apply more Sleek and Shine to her hair. And maybe add a touch more makeup.

When Hermione looked at the final result in the mirror, there was one thing she couldn't deny anymore: she was no longer dolling herself up for just Ron.

As the bell rung, Hermione was filled with an immense sense of dread. In a few minutes, she would see _him._

Everything was definitely not fine.

* * *

The Professor watched as his students silently filled the class, still adhering to the class division they had established since their first year: Slytherins on the right, Gryffindors on the left.

As Seventh Year students, they knew well to enter in silence.

'Today you shall all prove that you can all successfully carry out the O.W.L. spell of producing a fully fledged Patronus.'

Some in the class groaned at the facileness of the task, having successfully managed to master the spell during Harry's DA meetings in their fifth year. Others shifted nervously in their chairs.

'You will each demonstrate this in front of the class.'

This time a collective groan was uttered.

'First to the front is Granger.'

Hermione's heart stopped momentarily only to continue in painful, dread-filled beats. She realized then that her recent angsty dramas meant her mind was a mess, and she could recall no clear happy memory to produce a Patronus.

She took a deep breath as all eyes turned towards her. Her classmates were clearly surprised at her delayed chance to show off her usually effortless skill. As she let out her breath, she tried to pull her mind and her body together to cooperate. Maybe this was her chance to snap out of her emotional state. Maybe that was Professor Snape's plan; maybe he really did have her and the Order's best interests at heart.

With one final, shaky breath she stood up, praying that at least if the Slytherins didn't have the decency to stop staring at her, her fellow Gryffindors would.

'As much as I love wasting your lesson time, we do not have all day, Granger.'

She walked to the front of the classroom and closed her eyes. But the moment the darkness of her lids surrounded her vision, all she saw was Ron and Lavender, that night, her scars and Sectumsempra. She needed a happy memory to produce it – just one! Why was this one simple task beyond her?

She opened her eyes once again to see the whole class staring, and then she lifted her gaze to Professor Snape. But the instant she did, she regretted it: His intense stare made her whole body feel on fire as violent butterflies coursed through her veins.

She instantly looked away, hoping against hope he couldn't see the effect he had on her.

'I'm sorry, Professor, I can't.' She said finally, hoping to put an end to the silent moment between them as it drew out for an eternity.

'Are you telling me that one third of the Golden Trio has no Golden memories to produce?' Her face flushed. She decided to not dignify the question with an answer and walked back to her desk silently.

'Detention, Granger for lack of participation.'

She could feel his gaze burn her back, but still she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

'And fifty points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class.'

At that her head snapped round to where Ron and Harry usually sat, expecting their usual hot protests. But instantly, she realized her mistake: Ron was looking intently at his desk, his ears a violent shade of red, and Harry – Harry was not even there. There was only a mutter of protest from the other Gryffindors.

'Settle down,' was all Snape said before he called the next person.

Hermione tried to spend the rest of the lesson reading her textbook, but she couldn't concentrate. Something had jangled up her nerves making her long for the feeling of numbness only Sectumsempra could bring her.

* * *

Snape didn't like the way Hermione was acting one bit. He didn't like the way she made his eyes search her figure, nor the way the male pupils stared at her, or the fact that he was noticing these inane details in the first instance. No, he didn't like Granger at all.

But none of that mattered. He had to find who was using Sectumsempra on her, and who was making her keep quiet about it.

In any case, if she couldn't produce a Patronus, what made her think that she could be any use in this war?

Yes, that was all his extra investment in the girl was: he was seriously concerned about her role in the war and her contribution to the Greater Good.

* * *

That night, detention came far too early. And Hermione knew she had spent far too long worrying about her robes and how they fitted around her waist, and the way her hair and freshly applied makeup looked. She had to all but stop herself from spritzing on perfume. What was wrong with her? _Was she actually excited to have detention?_

The winding path to the dungeons only added to Hermione's menagerie of anxious butterflies. As she reached his door, she couldn't bring her hand up to knock. But she didn't have to.

'Enter,' came his strong, deep voice, making her breath momentarily escape her body.

The Professor stood up from his desk as Hermione walked in. His intimidating stance made her cross her arms protectively. Did she just see his eyes roam her body again? Even if she had, it was only fleeting. Why did she care anyway?

* * *

That the girl was flustered in his presence made Snape's mouth twist into a smile. She couldn't even look at him without her chest rising faster.

Snape was not a man of small talk. He would go straight to the heart of the matter.

'That night, after our little _encounter,_ why didn't you go see Madame Pomfrey?' he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

The girl's body visibly shook, as he spoke. How foolish she was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, to leave herself so wide open to his manipulation.

She remained silent.

'Let me see those scars,' he commanded, and without waiting for a reply, he reached out for her arm and slowly pulled her sleeve back, her skin quivering under his touch.

'Who did this to you, and why haven't you told anyone?'

When she didn't answer, he drew in closer.

'Granger, this isn't a game,' his voice was deadly low, 'who was it? Potter? Draco?'

'You can't – I didn't give you permission to look at my arm…' she said almost breathlessly.

Snape bent his head low towards her, his lips grazing her ear.

'Trust me, it's in your interest to answer me truthfully.' The girl almost unravelled beneath him, her breaths erratic.

'I will ask you one more time. _Who did this to you_?'

She closed her eyes in reply, pursing her lips firmly shut, her chest rising and falling rapidly..

Why was she keeping quiet about it?

It was clear Snape would have to apply more drastic tactics to get the information...

He massaged her scarred skin with more pressure with one hand and cupped her face with the other. He was so close to her, he could feel the heat radiate off her face and body. She was shaking like a leaf, but her eyes remained firmly shut.

'Hermione…' he whispered softly.

At the use of her given name, she hesitantly opened her eyes. And Snape took his chance.

 _Legillimens…_

The girl realised her mistake at once. Admittedly, Snape thought, she put on a good fight: she screamed and tried her best to push him away. But all her efforts were in vain as his grip tightened around her arm.

And sure enough, Snape soon got his answer: He saw her and the Red-Head boy at Grimmauld place, he saw her and Ginny dressing up in their dorm room, he felt her desperate longing for the Red-Head, and the crushing disappointment to find him with another Gryffindor. And then he saw her alone in her room, pointing her own wand to her arm and whispering his spell…

At that memory, he instantly let her go, as if struck by lightning.

 _Shit._

The girl collapsed to the floor, her body heaving with sobs.

'You-you used me…You…had…no…right…' she whispered.

'Get out.'

The girl remained on the floor, crying.

' _I said. Get. Out._ '

It took all of his self-control not to shout. His magic was vibrating in his veins; if he lost control of his temper he was going to lose control of his magic. And sure enough, as soon as the girl had the common sense to pull her crying self together and leave, he let his magic burst free causing his office to self destruct: his desk was overturned, chairs and papers flew chaotically across the room, and any priceless ornaments he had smashed to pieces.

After the dust had settled, Snape collapsed onto the floor, burying his head in his hands.

It was _his_ spell. _He was responsible._

Would his past ever leave him alone?

And how the fuck was he going to help her?

* * *

 **Let me know what you think!**


	6. Help

**Thank you Silver Orbed Lioness, Nevermoreblack, ndavis77, zedoc and marzipan4 for sharing your views. They made me think a lot and also laugh (Silver Orbed Lioness).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _'DON'T...CALL ME COWARD!'_ Severus Snape,

* * *

Hermione ran out the classroom and ran into the nearest bathroom and locked herself in a cubicle. No one could see her. How would she explain her uncontrollable tears? The make-up smeared all over her face?

Would she tell them that she had just felt powerless under her Professor's touch? And that she would do anything for him to touch her like that again?

But he had just used her, made a mockery of her petty, shameful, immature feelings.

She was meant to be the Brightest Witch of Their Time.

But she was disgrace.

And for the first time in her life, Hermione hated herself so much, she wanted to kill herself.

Even Snape thought she was disgusting when he had seen what she had done.

But she would end this, right now. Only when she had torn up her flesh, when there was no more blood left to flow, would these shameful, confused urges and feelings stop.

With her tears finally stopping, she picked up her wand and said the word a little louder than before:

'Sectumsempra…'

* * *

Snape closed his eyes as he raked his fingers through his dark hair, his body shaking. It had been eighteen years since he had lost control of his temper and magic like that.

 _Fuck._

He had created that spell for himself when he was seventeen. It was an addictive spell- more a drug than a spell. It could be used on others to simply inflict cuts. But someone who was really desperate would use it on himself. It was designed to make you forget the world, and everything in it – all the sadness and all the happiness – until the only thing you felt was numbness.

Until you realized that darkness was far less painful than any glaring light.

Until finally, willingly, joyfully, all you wanted was to die.

A cocktail of low self-esteem, sexual frustration, and Sectumsempra would lead to a blissful, ignorant, slow suicide.

And there was not a day in Severus' miserable adolescence when he hadn't thought about ending his existence…

Maybe things could have been different.

Had only a teacher not been repelled by his cold demeanor and given him the praise he deserved, had only his father not battered his mother's skin blue every night, and had only his mother loved Severus as much as she helplessly loved her husband…maybe he would not have got the Dark Mark burnt in his skin, feeling like he had belonged, _belonged_ somewhere for the first time.

But as Severus soon realised, even belonging didn't stave off the feeling of loneliness for long. And even before screams started to plague his dreams, Severus knew his life had taken an irrevocable turn for the worst.

After all, Lily was with James.

And one night, Severus decided to climb Hogwart's marble staircases as far as they would take him, walking through ghosts without feeling the cold. When he found himself in the Astronomy Tower, he knew that tonight was the night to finally do it.

It was nearing dusk, the breathtaking expanse of hills, trees and forests were lit with the dim purple of a setting sun in a night's sky. As he contemplated the distance he would have to fall, seventeen-year-old Severus imagined what would happen afterwards. His body would be sprawled on the ground, bloody and disfigured. He thought of Lily finding him, crying in anguish as she realised he loved her and that she too loved him.

He indulged himself in the scene for a while, putting off the fact that it would really be a snotty-nosed first year who would find him – or worse - James.

No, he couldn't bear that.

And he couldn't bear those last few minutes when his miserable life flashed past him as he fell.

And he knew then, he wasn't going to do it. Not like that.

A coward Slytherin through and through.

That's what he was - a coward for not going through with it, but most of all, a coward for resorting to suicide in the first place. And so he made an even more cowardly spell: Sectumsempra.

 _Sectum_ meant _to cut_.

 _Sempra_ meant _forever_.

It would make you addicted to darkness. Little by little, it would take away all your hope, until you realized that your only choice was to cut yourself free from the chore of living.

It was his back-up plan. If he ever wanted out, he knew it would blindly take him to death. No more questioning whether it was the right thing to do, no more imaging who would find him, no more re-runs of his pathetic life. Instead, his last breath on earth would be drawn willingly, bravely accepting the painful embrace of death.

In any case, still a coward's way out.

Deep down he knew that. The night he created his spell, he decided he wouldn't be that man. He wouldn't be his father: hiding behind violence in an act to hide his true emotions. No. He would own his emotions. He would be the man his father never was.

Tomorrow, he would find Lily and he would tell her the truth.

...

It was a dull rainy day. Severus should've realized the bad weather had warned him to stay away. But as he sat in the library, he couldn't concentrate on his homework; he could hear people laughing and shouting from outside. He turned his head to the window near his seat, and he saw the Gryffindor gang. They were laughing in the rain.

He couldn't take it anymore. She had to know.

And so, with his wand in hand, he ran down to the Hogwart's grounds. But as he approached the group, they didn't see him or pretended not to.

He raised his wand higher. It was now or never.

'Lily, I need to speak to you.'

The laughing stopped.

Rain was dripping off his nose, his lank hair, plastered to his face.

'Go away, Severus.' She didn't even look at him as she said it.

'Yeah go away, Snivellus.' It was Sirius.

' _Don't call me that.'_

Sirius' face split into a sadistic grin.

'But it's your name, _Snivellus_.'

Severus found the whole injustice of his life suddenly to heavy for his shoulders to bear anymore. Why should he be the one to die and these scumbags live?

'Call me that again, and you will pay,' he said, almost too calmly.

'Severus, you've made your choice, just leave us alone.' It was Lily, still she wouldn't look at him. James had put a protective arm around her shoulder.

'You heard her, _Snivellus_.'

'Sectumsempra!'

The word left his lips before he had a chance to think.

Blood shot out from Sirius' face as gasps filled the air. He doubled over in pain, and the crowd gathered round him, all apart from James.

'Why you, filthy, slimy-'

'DON'T, James,' said Lily. She shot Severus a disgusted, loathing glare with her almond, emerald eyes. 'He's not worth it.'

That was the last time she had ever looked at him.

But Snape needed to let her know that he would never hurt her, that he loved her that –

'Lily please-' he pleaded.

Suddenly, James stood in front of Lily, his face red with rage, a deathly glint in his eyes.

'Get back you git, you heard me?' James glowered, the knuckles around his wand turning white with strain.

But Snape held his wand equally as high.

'James, please, we need to get Sirius to the Hospital Wing!'

James considered Severus and his raised wand for a few moments longer before spitting at Snape and turning back to Sirius.

He watched the happy couple carry a doubled-over Sirius to the castle. Again Severus was forgotten. Again, James got the girl.

But one thing was sure. From now on no one would ever dare mess with him again.

Suddenly, life was worth living again.

Even if it meant he would spend the rest of his life proving to Lily that he _was_ worth something, that he was more of a man than James could ever be.

Professor Snape drew a deep breath, trying to regain control of his thoughts. In eighteen years, he had never let his mind wander freely, particularly to his teenage years which were now like a happy dream compared to the sinful nightmare of his adult life.

Sometimes, before he would fall asleep, Snape would close his eyes and see all the bodies he had ever delivered to death, just floating, staring up at him with black, empty sockets. At such times he would recall Lilly's green eyes to cleanse the image away. But recently, it was becoming harder and harder.

Would his past ever let him go and just let him be? He was beginning to feel like his life was a broken toilet. The more he flushed, the more the shit would rise.

Now, with his office back in order, he needed to take back control.

He needed to fix the Granger girl.

* * *

For a few moments, Hermione had forgotten about everything. But now, after she had cleaned up the blood and sealed the cuts with a spell, her arms started throbbing painfully. And there was only so long she could stay in the toilet cubicle.

She hadn't done a very good job with the healing spell. Her magical powers were depleting, along with her concentration to perform the spells. She needed help. She couldn't keep doing the spell. Deep down, she knew it was bad for her.

With her left arm feeling like lead, and her head dizzy, Hermione unlocked the cubicle and made her way to the bathroom sink, grateful that no one had entered. She washed her face and ran her good hand through her hair.

She could do this.

As she walked out of the bathroom, someone called her name.

'Hey, Hermione,' came a breathless voice. It was Harry.

'Where've you been?' He said as he caught up with her. 'You weren't at dinner, and I couldn't find you in the Common Room or the Library-'

'Where were you?' She said, almost too defensively.

'What do you mean?'

'For Snape's lesson, you missed Defence Against the Arts, Harry, this is your NEWT year-' Hermione stopped herself from sounding like her judgmental old self who only worried about grades. She couldn't give two figs about his NEWTs. She had merely wanted him to be there for her.

'I know, I'm sorry, I was with Dumbledore…' For the Horcruxes of course. Instantly Hermione felt guilty.

'I'm sorry Harry, I just…' She felt like she was going to cry.

Harry came up to her close.

'Hey, are you ok? We haven't hung out in a while. We should catch-up.' Hermione nodded. At that moment, she decided she would tell him everything. Maybe it's for the best.

But as she opened her mouth, Neville came running up to them.

'Hermione!' he panted, out of breath. 'You need to go see Professor Snape,' Neville doubled over, his hands gripping his hands as he caught his breath. 'He said you needed to complete your detention. He sounded extremely mad.'

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her.

Harry's brows furrowed in worry. 'You got detention, in the first week of term?' Hermione knew she looked like she was about to cry, she could feel the tears welling up. 'Do you want me to come with you?' Harry added hurriedly, noting the upset state of his friend.

But Hermione suddenly remembered what had caused her to be in this position in the first instance: her feelings for Snape.

She couldn't tell him.

Harry could never find out. No one could ever find out.

She took a deep breath. 'I'll be fine. I'll catch up with you both later.'

She would have to sort this mess out herself. Snape would have to help her. He had a duty of care, didn't he? Isn't that why he invaded her privacy the way he had done? Because he cared?

With her arm feeling heavier than ever, once again, she went to his office.

* * *

There was a soft knock at Snape's door.

'Enter,' he said, he contemplated standing up from his desk, but something stopped him. His room was back in order again, with just his desk light giving off a dim amber light. The candles in torch brackets had refused to turn on. Other than that, it was as if the past few hours of chaos had never occurred.

Yes, he would re-establish order and remark the boundaries that had been destroyed.

Hermione Granger stumbled in, shaking, looking more dishevelled than he had ever seen her. She was careful not to look at him.

He felt a heat rise inside him. Merlin, did he hate her. He hated her for getting involved with Dark Magic, for trapping herself in this mess, for reminding him that his past would _never_ let him go.

He supposed he should apologise, but, just as he couldn't rise from his seat to greet her in, he couldn't form the words.

Ever the brave Gryffindor, it was she who broke the silence first.

'Professor,' she whispered careful to not look at him, 'I need your help.'

At that, he felt his magic surge through his veins, threating to take the control out of his hands.

'What do you suppose I've been doing all this time?' he hissed _'For six whole years I've been cleaning the mess you and your friends have made._ '

She flinched. Her face was pale and she was cradling her left arm.

'You used it again, didn't you?' he asked in a more terse tone than he would've liked.

Her eyes became glassy with tears and she looked to the floor.

His heart beat faster. At that moment, he knew he passionately hated the girl more than anything or anyone else. Even more than James. It burned right through him.

She was young and talented, she had her whole life ahead of her and she was throwing it all away, just like he had done with his life when he got that stupid Dark Mark.

'Give me your wand.'

She did so without looking at him and Snape performed a few spells on it before handing it back.

'Your wand is now incapable of performing that spell. If you commit any other acts of self-harm I will be notified immediately. Do you understand?'

The girl nodded, silent tears coursing down her cheek.

'Somehow, I don't think you do. Do you understand how stupid you are using that spell on yourself? That it has depleted your magical core? That it could have ended up killing you?'

The girl's body was shaking with sobs and Snape found himself picking up his quill with his free hand a resuming grading papers as if this was any other boring conversation with a student.

'If you don't get over your teenage dramas, I will not hesitate to ship you off to St Mungo's. We're in the middle of a war for Merlin's sake.'

He had tried to keep his voice even, but his knuckles were white, and his quill had snapped in his hands. Snape couldn't afford to lose control of his magic again. He attempted to calm himself and carry on writing with the broken quill.

Wisely, the girl had already decided to leave without being dismissed.

'One more thing, Granger,' he said as she opened the door. She stood still, but did not turn towards him.

'As far as I'm concerned the only thing I am obligated to help you with are your NEWTs.'

Hermione's only response was for her head to dip lower and to leave the room.

After her sobs had faded into the distance, Snape opened his hand to find that he had gripped his broken quill so hard, it had drawn blood.


	7. Attraction Addiction

**Guys, I'm on a roll with these updates. Bit of a risky chapter for all the SS/HG fans, but hope you all enjoy this chapter too.**

* * *

 _"Are you that bad at kissing?"_

 _"Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. "Maybe I am."_  
 _"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter._  
 _"How do you know?" said Ron in a sharp voice.  
_ \- Order of the Phoenix

 _"You cannot replace one addiction with another, and call yourself cured."_

* * *

Harry had waited in the deserted common room. It was almost 10.30pm. He was worried about Hermione. There was no polite way of putting it: Ron had been a complete dick to her.

Ever since the party, Harry knew something was wrong. If Ron hadn't been caught up in the dizzying highs of being boyfriend-of-the-year he would have noticed too.

Harry hadn't liked the way Hermione's looked when she saw Ron kiss Lavender, or the way she shrunk back as Malfoy steadied her, and the way she just disappeared without even saying goodbye.

In fact, during the party Harry had become so worried he stopped dancing, much to Ginny's dismay. It was only when he was back in the castle and had access to the Marauder's map did he feel ok again- well, to an extent anyway. Hermione wasn't in her room. She was walking in the corridors. She shouldn't have been walking around Hogwart's in the early hours of the morning. They had already broken so many rules by attending the party. What had she been playing at?

Harry had watched Hermione's dot until she went back to her dorm. But still, when he woke up the next day, that uneasy feeling hadn't left him.

Lately, Ron was really pissing him off, and so was Ginny to be quite honest. Ginny was not the down-to-earth-girl she had been a few months ago. She was constantly obsessed with her appearance.

Today, they – or rather he- had decided to call their relationship off until things had settled down with regards to the war.

He was just so stressed. He had a meeting with Dumbledore who told him he should probably give up his position on the Quidditch team to focus on the Horcruxes. But Quidditch and flying were the only two things keeping him sane. Sometimes, he felt like he was going to fucking explode or punch someone or something.

He took a deep breath; he couldn't afford to be all over the place. He needed to be there for Hermione.

* * *

Hermione spent a full hour in the bathroom calming herself down by breathing hard.

She had to face Harry. She had to figure out a story. She had to pull herself together in order to help him.

As soon as she walked in to the Common Room she saw Harry sitting on a sofa with Crookshanks on his lap. His other hand held a neglected Marauderer's map and his glasses. His head was lolled to one side. He was asleep. But as soon as she walked in, he parted his eyes.

'Hey,' he said smiling, 'did you survive detention with Snape?'

Hermione smiled weakly.

Harry sat up, an upset Crookshanks meowed and readjusted himself.

'What took you so long anyway?'

Hermione scratched the back of her neck unsure of what to say.

'I just…I couldn't face the Common Room, I needed to sort myself out.'

Harry's intense stare made Hermione feel uncomfortable; she rarely saw him without glasses. She didn't know why, but she didn't feel comfortable sitting next to him.

But he was her best friend, and she was being silly. So she did sit next to him, careful to avoid his eyes as she lifted Crookshanks off his lap.

'You didn't want to see Ron, that's why you came so late. Am I right?'

Hermione didn't answer, just the sound of his name made her tense. Even after everything that had happened that night with Snape.

'Hermione, he's an idiot. You do realise he doesn't like Lavender but actually loves you, right?'

Hermione snorted derisively.

'He's not that complicated, Harry. You and I both know that.'

'You don't know him like I do… but, anyway, it doesn't justify what he did. I'm sorry, I really am.'

'It's not your fault.'

'I know, but-'

'-no, seriously, he hasn't done anything wrong. We were never together.'

A pregnant pause fell between them where Hermione still avoided Harry's stare and Harry debated whether he should continue convincing Hermione of Ron's feelings.

Hermione sighed deeply.

'I'm fine, Harry, honestly.'

She finally braced herself and looked him in the eye. 'What about you, how's Ginny?'

This time Harry looked away.

'We broke up.'

'Really? I had no idea. I'm so sorry.'

'Yeah, I'm not. I need to focus on the, you know…' he was referring to the Horcruxes.

'Of course. How's it going?' Hermione realized how tired Harry was as he ran a tense hand through his hair.

'Nothing I can't handle,' he smiled briefly, before his expression became serious.

'Hermione-'

'Harry, if you need any help, just let me know-'

She looked away from him. She couldn't handle his questions. Not now.

'Hermione-'

'-and also I have your cloak. Let me go get it.' She suddenly stood up, causing Crookshanks to shriek at being ejected from her owner's lap.

Harry got up as well and grabbed her by the arm, his face etched with concern.

'Actually, I'll give it to you tomorrow. I'm really tired-'

'-Hermione!'

'-I'm going to bed Harry-'

'- _Hermione, stop.'_

She resigned to the fact that she had to face him; she had to look in his intensely green eyes.

'What?'

'Just forget about Ron, ok?'

She couldn't bear to look at him. Ron wasn't even the least of her problems now. If Harry knew the truth… he would be disgusted.

'Let me get your cloak.'

Reluctantly, Harry let her go. Hermione went upstairs with her heart feeling heavier and heavier with every step that she took.

Ron wasn't the problem anymore. It was Snape. Harry hated Snape. Snape had made Harry's and his parents' lives hell.

 _But she had feelings for Snape._

For all she knew, he was probably a triple agent.

But still all she longed for was his scent to fill her lungs again, and to feel the weight of his body press into her.

And she hated herself for it.

But there was no relief for her anymore. He had taken away the one spell that had helped forget everything. Now, she felt like the only thing that would help her was if she ripped out her own skin with her own fingernails.

It was no use.

She picked up Harry's cloak and went to the Common Room.

He was still there, standing, looking directly at her.

Silently, she went to give it to him.

'Why did you have it in the first place?' he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

She sat down on the couch, her hands in her head.

'Hey, you can talk to me…' He came up close to her, and Hermione found herself wanting to cower away from.

'What's wrong?' He whispered turning her chin towards him with his calloused fingers. In that moment as their eyes met, Hermione realized why she was finding it so hard to look at him.

She was attracted to him.

She was attracted to everyone! First she was attracted to Ron, then Snape, and now Harry! What the hell was wrong with her?

The air between them became electric.

Hermione panicked.

'I should go,' her voice was barely a whisper. Still she did not move. But neither did he.

Her heart beat deafeningly loud. He had never, ever looked at her like that before.

He leant in ever so close, his breath played on her lips for what felt like an eternity before he eventually parted her mouth with his tongue…

All the pain and anxiety Hermione had felt instantly melted away as he deepened his kiss and pushed her back on the sofa. His body covered hers, his hands freely roamed her waist and beyond.

Suddenly a large noise broke out from the corner of the room.

Horrified, they both froze. In the silence, the heat between their bodies grew even more intense.

A streak of fuzzy ginger dashed passed them: Crookshanks.

Neither of them spoke. If they did, they would have to think about what was happening. And if they did that, they would realise this was wrong and would have to stop.

Instead, Hermione gently pressed Harry's chest to move off her and Harry stood up and went to the staircase that led to the boy's dormitory. His gaze still fixed on her, his hand outstretched.

Without thinking twice, Hermione placed the cloak around herself and, through its liquidy fabric, grabbed Harry's hand…


	8. For Herself

_"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"_ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

* * *

Everyone was fast asleep. She saw Ron's four poster bed, the curtain's drawn, a pair of pink slippers nearby on the floor: Lavender's.

But it didn't matter now. Not one bit. Harry motioned for her to go on his bed, before going in after him, drawing the curtains securely around them.

He cast a silencing charm, but still he whispered.

'Where were we?'

Hermione slid out from under the cloak and looked at him nervously, hoping against hope that this was no dream, and that he really did want to be with her. But when he started kissing her on the neck, she realized she didn't care. She just wanted to forget everything.

'Harry?' croaked a hoarse voice through the curtains. It was not Hermione's.

Once again, the pair stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with fear. It was Ron. Obviously, they had not entered as silently as they had thought.

'Just ignore him,' Harry whispered and made to resume kissing.

'Harry?' Ron again.

After mumbling an apology to a now fearful Hermione, Harry removed the silencing charm.

'Yeah?' he whispered back, his frustration palpable in his irritated tone.

'Is Ginny with you?'

Harry sighed as he resignedly collapsed beside Hermione; it was not going to happen tonight, not now when Ron, of all people, was awake talking about Ginny of all people.

'No.'

With a fresh wave of panic overcoming her, Hermione sat up to hug her knees.

'Oh, it's just I thought I heard… never mind.'

'Right,' was all Harry could manage in reply. 'Listen, we broke up.'

'Shit. Really?'

Harry was trying hard to catch Hermione's eyes but she was too lost in her thoughts.

'Look, I know she's being a bit brattish at the moment,' Ron continued, 'she was like that all summer. But Mum said it's just a teenage phase…'

'I know mate. It's not about that, I just… need to focus on you know, other stuff…' he was of course referring to the Horcruxes.

'Fair enough.'

'Ron, could you please be quiet, I'm trying to sleep!' came a shrill whisper. It was Lavander.

'Alright, alright. Nite Harry.'

Harry turned to Hermione who had her head in her hands.

The reality of what they had done was hitting her. Harry had just broken up with Ginny. She was his rebound, and he just felt sorry for her! Ron was probably with Lavender every night. Good, kind Harry just wanted to show her she was not a total reject.

Hermione smiled at a concerned Harry, before kissing him on the cheek and disappearing beneath the cloak.

She swiftly disappeared to her dormitory, where Harry could not follow her due to ancient Castle charms.

As she entered, she heard Ginny sobbing, her curtains drawn around her bed. Hermione felt a lump in her throat and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

What had she done?

Not able to even think about what a joke she had become, Hermione lay down on her bed.

She so desperately wanted to forget everything.

But the truth was, now that Sectumsempra had gone, she couldn't. But when Harry had kissed her, she almost had. She couldn't make sense of it; all she knew is that when he touched her, she almost completely forgot about Snape…

With that thought, Hermione put a pillow around her ears, hoping to block out Ginny's cries.

* * *

The palm of his hand where he had cut himself when he had dismissed Hermione throbbed every time Snape tried to write. He couldn't concentrate on anything.

So, that night, after eighteen years of being tee-total, Severus Snape had gotten drunk, wasted, smashed, hammered, pissed – or whatever the kids were calling it these days.

He had even picked up a prostitute; a prostitute who looked like she was barely an adult and had deep, pretty brown eyes – the epitome of the very thing _-_ person - he was trying to forget.

He paid the girl double and sent her on his way. He didn't need any erotic memories -no matter how drunk and blurry – to be associated with one of his students.

Merlin Fucking Christ.

A tempus charm that he cast told him that he had made it to the castle one hour before the start of the first lesson of the day. A miracle in itself.

Needless to say, he smelt like an ashtray and a brewery. He debated whether a shower or breakfast would clear his alcohol-laced mind the best, since he didn't have time for both. In the end , he decided to spray himself with nearly half a bottle of his most expensive cologne instead of showering. Did he honestly think it would cover the smell? No. Did he hope that he would give off the scent of danger masked thinly by social decorum, the scent that so many girls go wild for? Yes. Did he hope his new cologne-cocktail would attract the attention of a certain student? Perhaps. Did he realise how laughable this hope was? Certainly.

Still, he strode into the Great Hall for breakfast as if this were just any other day and that he wasn't still half-drunk.

* * *

That morning Hermione made her skirt extra short and her shirt tighter. She also spent extra time on her hair and applied more makeup than appropriate for a school day, including on her arm to cover her scars. Technically, she didn't need to because you were meant to wear Hogwart's robes for the duration of the school hours. But she just wanted to look good for herself. Perhaps she had gone a tad too heavy-handed with the eyeliner, and perhaps a tad too bold with her lipstick. But who cared? After all, she was doing this for herself.

But her reasoning proved to be a load of nonsense when she went to breakfast at the great hall and saw Harry: her heart well and truly skipped a beat. She saw his eyes roam her up and down before he came up to her, a piece of toast in his hand, his school bag on his shoulder. He looked extra-disheveled, as if he had just woken out of bed.

'Hey,' he said.

'Hi.' The atmosphere between them was just as tense and loaded as it had been before they had kissed. Breakfast in the Great Hall was always quieter than dinner, the students were always a bit sleepy, and it felt as if the whole room was baiting its breath, waiting for one of them to speak.

'Sorry, Hermione, I can't stay to talk, I have to go see Dumbledore.' Her heart sank in her stomach, and her cheeks went crimson.

It was Ron all over again.

'Of course, Harry. See you.' She walked past him to sit down on the Gryffindor bench. She tried to eat some porridge or cereal but she couldn't. Harry had just brushed her off. He rejected her.

Just like Ron had.

* * *

Snape watched the girl from his table. He had promised himself that he would ignore the girl from now on. But she was making it impossible. She was dressed like a tart, like that prostitute he had almost bedded last night.

He watched her barely touch her breakfast before getting up to leave. Snape cursed himself for breaking his promise to himself to ignore and blank the girl out of his mental existence. But he couldn't just watch her walk around like that. Even the Slytherins turned their heads to watch her leave.

* * *

Hermione was walking to the Great Hall back to her room when she heard his familiar, heavy tread.

Snape.

'Granger, a word if you may.' His voice was so deep, it sent shivers down her spine.

She tried to keep her composure. So much had happened since last time they had spoken. She had kissed Harry. Surely, that should replace any feelings she had for Snape.

But clearly, they hadn't. If anything, Hermione felt herself breathless as she turned around to face him; his tall, imposing form, reminding her of how much stronger and experienced the man before her was than anyone she knew her age.

'Do you know why I am here, talking to you?'

Hermione blinked hoping against hope that none of her inappropriate answers to that question were filtering through to him.

'Hogwart's Handbook, Student Code of Conduct, page 17 section 3.8.'

Hermione's heart stopped and her throat went dry. He surely couldn't be serious.

'Are you familiar with the section, Miss Granger?'

She blushed. Of course she knew that section, she had memorized the Hogwart's Code of Conduct in her first year. But she remained silent - any answer would be the wrong answer.

'Let me remind you. Rule number forty-two: Neither jewelry nor _makeup_ may be worn during school hours.'

She took a deep breath.

'Thank you for your concern, Sir. but I'm not wearing any makeup.'

Snape took a step closer.

'Remove it now or I will do it myself, and believe me, the spell I'll use won't be kind.'

Hermione had to control herself from breathing too fast at his close proximity.

She lifted up her arm where she had scars from Sectumsempra.

'And what about the makeup hiding these scars, should I remove them too?'

Snape's expression did not change at the mention of her self-harm.

'If you were wearing your school robes, they wouldn't be visible in the first place.'

Frustrated tears pricked Hermione's eyes. Snape didn't give a damn about her or her scars. He couldn't care less.

'I was just going to get it, Sir, before you stopped me,' and with that she turned on her heel, hoping to bypass the embarrassment of removing her makeup in front of him.

But he grabbed her wrist so forcefully, she spun right back around mere inches away from him.

'I did not dismiss you,' he growled in his most threatening tones, his breath smelling of alcohol and stale cigarettes.

He was literally grabbing her in the middle of the corridor. Was he not scared someone would see his behavior? Was he afraid of no one?

No, everyone else was afraid of him.

Including her.

And the worst thing was, all she could feel was excitement at being touched by him, at being so close to this forbidden man.

Hermione closed her eyes in shame. What was wrong with her? Why did his clearly violent behavior made her want him even more?

'I'm sorry, Sir,' she whispered earnestly.

'Next time you wear this disgusting excuse for a uniform,' she opened her eyes only to find his roaming her body, 'you _will_ be sorry. Do you understand?'

Hermione melted beneath him, his grip on her wrists made her heart beat fast with thoughts of his hands roughly handling the rest of her.

The problem was, she didn't understand. Not at all. How was it that he was so horrible to her, but that her whole body ached for him to touch her? It wasn't any feeling she had ever had for Ron or Harry.

As if sensing her thoughts, his eyes glittered dangerously. She nodded, and finally he let her go.

After she had made a left turn, she began to sprint as if hoping running faster would help her escape her messed-up emotions and desires. Her heart beat faster in a wave of dizzy panic as she remembered he had probably seen into her mind again.

At that moment she needed something to make her forget about Snape. She needed Sectumsempra.

But of course, he had stopped her from using it.

She needed Harry.

But Harry didn't want anything to do with her.

No, she needed herself. She had to save herself.

She had to be strong.

And so Hermione took her school robes, tightened them for a more flattering fit. And she did not remove her makeup but added to it, and spritzed herself with as much perfume as she could. In addition, with a wave of her wand, she added some heels to her school shoes – small enough to not draw attention from the teachers, but big enough to accentuate her bare legs.

Yes, Hermione was doing all this for herself, and not for anyone else's benefit.

As she ran some anti-frizz serum she looked at her watch and realized that she was almost running late. Frantically, she grabbed her timetable and, with a sinking heart, she looked at her first lesson: It was Defence Against the Dark Arts. With Snape.


	9. Passing Note

Snape would not give the girl the satisfaction of getting his attention twice that day. Yes he noticed she had not only disobeyed him, but had tarted herself even more. Even the Slytherin boys were looking at her for Merlin's sake. But he had lost his control once that day. He couldn't afford to lose it again and in front of the rest of the class.

It must be the alcohol he had consumed. It had messed up his straight edge system.

In any case, he couldn't afford to even look at the girl.

* * *

As she entered the classroom, Hermione immediately felt Snape's strong, dark presence. It was as if she could sense him with her whole being, even though she hadn't dared look at him, and he probably hadn't looked at her once. With her heart beating, Hermione scanned the room for Harry.

He wasn't there.

Was he regretting that night so much that he was prepared to bunk lessons just to avoid her? Hermione spotted a table in the far corner, the last to have both its seats unoccupied. Ignoring Neville's invitation to sit next to him, Hermione went and sat down on her own.

'Summarise Chapter 9: The Battle of Wand and Wit and finish for Homework,' he said as his eyes scanned the room to stifle anyone who dared dispute this solely theory-based lesson. Hermione didn't dare breathe or gulp to moisten her dry mouth in anticipation of those orbs of black to pierce her. But Snape's glare avoided her entirely, as if the past hour hadn't occurred.

While the rest of class groaned at having to summarise the longest chapter of them all, Hermione took a deep breath to calm her heart, which had beat faster with his every move. _Just keep your head down, do your work and you'll be fine…As s_ he got out her quill and stared writing the title on her parchment, she willed Harry to come and save her from the raging feelings inside her...

* * *

Ten minutes through the lesson, Harry finally burst into his Defence Against the Dark Arts class: his jet black hair styled with gel; his shirt haphazardly buttoned, half hanging out, half tucked in his trousers, which, incidentally, flashed a glimpse of his underwear. Clearly, Harry had spent time on his appearance, so much so, that he had forgotten to look at his wrist watch and had sprinted to his lesson in what must have been record time.

'Sorry…I'm….late…' he breathed, his face red from running. The whole class was looking up: the Gryffindors hoping against hope this was not one of those lessons when Harry managed to lose hundreds of house points in one go. The Slytherins, meanwhile, hoping it was.

'Fifty points off Gryffindor for your tardiness.' Half the class groaned while the other half broke out into a grin. Experience had told Harry any reply was a bad reply, so he kept his mouth firmly shut. Besides, he had spotted Hermione who was the only one determinedly not looking up at him. He swivelled round from Snape's glare and made to sit next to her.

'And fifty points for disrupting the class.' Harry did not so much as grimace, there was only one thing on his mind right now: Hermione. He pushed passed the seats. This time Ron's invitation was ignored.

As he slumped in the seat next to her, Harry couldn't help but notice how good she looked today.

'Hi,' he whispered.

'Hi.' The two looked at each other in the eye for the first time since that night they spent together, inspecting every inch of the other's face, seeing if anything had changed since the last time they touched. Harry's face relaxed into a satisfied smirk as he realised she still wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

'Potter, the work set is written on the board!' growled Snape, even by his standards the Professor was not in the best of moods.

Harry sprung into action and hurriedly bent down towards his bag, rummaging around for a quill and a piece of parchment. But on the way, he got lost, dazed, as if a Bludger going at 90 mph had just whacked him across the head. With his mouth slightly open, he stared at Hermione's tight skirt hugging her smooth bare legs and the memory of them between his own came flooding back…He checked himself quickly - now was definitely not a D.I.Y moment. He got up from underneath the desk and could not help noticing how Hermione's breasts seemed to be bursting out of her shirt. He saw Hermione blushing as she caught his gaze on her. Harry checked himself again and threw a quick glance around the room: everyone seemed to be working and Snape seemed engrossed in marking essays. Dipping his quill into the inkwell, Harry began to write. But he had no intention of summarising Chapter 9.

I'm sorry about before. We need to talk about the other night.

 _There's nothing to talk about._

Seriously? It's all I've been thinking about.

 _Look, I get it. You were upset about Ginny, I was your rebound. No big deal._

Do you actually think that's true?

 _Have you started the work set? What if Snape wants it handed in at the end of the lesson?_

Fuck Snape. Fuck Ron. Fuck Ginny. All I care about is you.

 _Harry, you're sweet._

I mean it. Let me prove it to you. What are you doing next period?

 _Library._

Meet me in the Room of Requirement.

 _Don't you have care of Magical Creatures?_

Do you think I care? Come on, Hermione, we need to talk.

 _Ok fine. But just to talk._

Fine.

 _Fine._

You know, you're looking pretty fine yourself…

 _You don't look too bad either._

* * *

Before Potter's impudent disruption, Snape's technique of blocking Hermione from his thoughts was going pretty well. But now that Potter and Hermione had clearly decided to ignore his extremely simple instructions of summarising Chapter 9, he found he could no longer ignore the girl. A pulse of irritation flared through him. The to and fro of the parchment between them, their occasional furtive look to see if anyone was watching them and the smiles about their lips, which simply could not have been caused by reading a text about wands, all meant that even a blind troll in Australia could tell they weren't working. What annoyed Snape most about Hermione and Harry writing notes to each other in his lesson was the utter lack of stealth they employed in their method. Their behaviour was simply unacceptable from 7th years who were capable of enough advanced magic to carry out their task with subtlety. Was Hermione _that_ desperate to get his attention? Or were the two genuinely, foolishly oblivious?

One thing was certain: No one disobeyed Professor Snape in his classroom.

He coughed to clear his throat which was still dry from last night's onslaught of alcohol.

'Accio parchment,' Snape said as the scrap of paper flew neatly onto his desk. He saw the pair's not-so-secret smiles freeze on their faces.

'Would Potter and Granger care for the rest of the class to hear their joint rendition of Chapter 9?' The colour drained from the pair's faces. 'No? Then I suggest you also summarise Chapters 10, 11, 12 and 13 for tomorrow,' he said coldly.

An electric jolt passed through him as Hermione's eyes locked with his. But she blushed and quickly looked away.

After he ensured the two students were actually doing the work set, Snape went back to marking his essays and resumed his old past-time of pushing thoughts of Hermione firmly to the back of his mind.

It didn't occur to Snape to look at the parchment he had confiscated until the bell had rung. He waited for the last student to leave before he leisurely smoothed it out to read, expecting to find the usual dull student tittle tattle peppered with the occasional surprising insult of a close friend or a bat reference to himself.

But as Snape read _this_ particular parchment, his heart froze.

 _It can't be…_

He scanned the paper over and over, hoping something in between the lines would prove him wrong. But the more he read it, the more certain he felt the universe swallow him up sending him into a vortex with memories of his past spinning around him...

 _Lily and Potter. Hermione and Potter._

 _Potter._

 _Potter got the girl from under your nose and he will do it again…_

His head snapped up to the clock - it was ten minutes since the end of the lesson. With a fire burning through every vein and artery, he abandoned the unfinished essays and sprinted through the corridors, past ghosts, cursing portraits and rusty suits of armour, whilst the torch lights flickered in his wake.

Snape found himself standing out of breath with a bead of sweat down his neck in front of the Room of Requirement.

 _I need to find Harry and Hermione._

With his heart pounding blood fiercely all over his body, he hardly registered that the pair clearly hadn't done a very good job of requesting a private room for the door appeared almost instantly. His alcohol slurred mind didn't know whether it was she who needed saving or whether he needed to save her…


	10. The Room of Requirement

**A/N: Please, please, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

It was everything he had imagined and worse.

James –Harry- had her against the wall, her leg was wrapped around his waist causing her already short skirt to hitch up even more, and Harry's hand to indecently disappear underneath it. Soft gasps of breath filled the air as the boy started kissing her neck.

That sight stabbed at Snape like a knife, cutting loose any tether of self-restraint to unleash a beast. He ran into the room and fiercely grabbed Harry by the collar, his fingers raking the boy's neck so viciously that flakes of skin collected under his nails. With a force that caused the boy's face to contort with pain, Snape shoved Potter against the wall, the boy's shirt collar crushed in his fists.

Hermione let out a frightened cry.

'If you… ever… lay…so much as a finger... on her again …' Snape breathed, his face millimetres away from the boy's, whose lightning shaped scar was redder than ever.

'What …the …fuck…?' Harry panted, 'who the fuck do you think you are?'

Snape momentarily loosened his grip as James' round, brown eyes melted into Lily's – Harry's – green, almond shaped ones…

 _This is Harry, not James…_

Harry took advantage of Snape's lapse in concentration to throw a forceful punch at his attacker. But the trained Spy's reflexes were too quick and Snape had him in an arm lock within an instant.

Hermione's cry broke out again

'Watch your language in front of your Professor, Potter,' Snape hissed as the boy winced with pain.

'I'm pretty sure a _Professor,_ ' Harry spat through barred teeth, 'shouldn't punch a student _._ '

'And I'm pretty sure if _you_ weren't "The Chosen One", you would've been expelled years ago.' The hatred in Snape's voice crackled through his ragged breaths as he let the boy go with a final shove.

'I suggest you go and explain to Professor Grubby-Plank why you have missed half her lesson.' But despite Snape's dangerous, threatening tones, Harry pushed past Snape and made towards Hermione instead of going to his lesson.

In one swift movement, the Professor darted between him and the girl, blocking Harry from reaching her just in time.

' _Now Potter.'_

After exchanging deathly glares, Harry made his way out, kicking the door furiously as he did.

Snape slowly turned around. Hermione was still against the wall, hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned, a pink flush on her tear stained cheeks and eyes wide open. Her chest was rising with rapid breaths.

'Stay away from him,' he whispered as he realised with a sense of both resentment and great loss that, all along, her makeup and tailored uniform hadn't been for his benefit. 'He's only interested in one thing.'

Snape ran a tense, frustrated hand through his hair.

There were a million things he regretted about his actions so far. He just prayed that he wouldn't regret what he said or did next…

* * *

 **Please review! Thanks for reading this far xxx**


	11. The Truth and Dumbledore

**Thank you very much for your reviews of the last chapter (there were two so you both know who you are!). Thanks for reading everyone and please let me know what you think. xxx**

* * *

Hermione stood transfixed to the spot, for she was trying to absorb what had just happened. She didn't dare breathe or blink, in case what she just experienced might suddenly evaporate like a mirage.

A dizzy mixture of vertigo and adrenaline filled her stomach like a whirlwind causing her to hold on to the wall to steady herself. One thing was becoming abundantly clear, like a million chandeliers suddenly flickering alight in her mind and heart. There was only one reason for a man to abandon all reason, all control in such a way. Yes he – Severus Snape- _had feelings for her_ …

She didn't care. Nothing else mattered. This was proof that it wasn't all in her head! It wasn't like it was with Ron! Snape had feelings for her!

Snape tore his gaze away from her and headed towards the door of the tiny room.

'Wait,' she whispered. To her surprise, he stopped, but he didn't turn round. Hermione walked up to him and push past him in order to face him, standing mere centimeters away from him. Considerably taller than her, he looked down at her with half-caste eyes.

Her head only came up to his torso, there was no way she could attempt to kiss him – is that what she wanted to do?

* * *

In a whirlwind of rage and fury, Harry had hardly noticed where he was going and was just as shocked as Dumbledore to be bursting unannounced into his office.

'Harry, is everything ok?' Surprise flashed through the Headmaster's eyes but his voice, never once lost its persistent calm.

Harry didn't know how to answer; he didn't know where to begin. Everything had happened so quickly – one minute he was with Hermione, the next with Snape and now he was here with Dumbledore and Fawkes, who were watching him expectantly.

The ornate quirky objects that were scattered on the Headmaster's mahogany desk only added to the surrealism of his day.

A crease of worry began to run through the Headmaster's forehead. 'Harry, would you like to sit down?'

Apart from the objects emitting the occasional whistle, there was complete silence. Even the portraits of the previous headmasters were quiet, their ears pressed desperately against their frames, lest they may miss what The Chosen One was about to say.

'Sorry Professor, I didn't mean to disturb you...' Harry finally managed. His mouth was still dry from the run.

'You know very well by now that any visit from you is no disturbance.' Dumbledore looked at him square on. 'Is it the Hocruxes?'

Harry's head snapped up to meet the Headmaster's strikingly blue eyes.

 _Hocruxes_.

He hadn't given that topic a second thought since their last meeting.

Guilt and shame knitting his brows together, Harry looked away. How could he be worrying about Snape – or anything else that didn't involve saving the world- when he should be concentrating on finding out more information about the Hocruxes?

 _But then again, Severus Snape has everything to do with saving the world._

Harry swallowed hard, gulping back his guilt.

'Professor, he's on their side, I can tell.'

No introduction or preamble was necessary: the loyalty of Severus Snape was a well discussed topic between the two.

Dumbledore sighed as his eyes withered with exasperation.

'Harry, he's a spy. We've talked about this before. The very fact that he makes you feel uneasy means that he is doing his job well.'

'At the end of the day,' Harry began as irritation at the old man's stubbornness flared through him, 'he serves Voldemort and you know just as well as I do having someone so close is more trouble than it's worth.'

Even though they had had the same argument over and over, almost word for word, Dumbledore suddenly felt it was different this time. There was a piercing fire in Harry's eyes he had never seen before.

'Harry, if something's happened to reinforce your suspicions, it's adamant that you tell me straight away.'

For the second time that day, Harry couldn't hold the Headmaster's piercing, blue gaze. His neck still stung from when Snape had grabbed him: His Professor's behavior had been extreme to say the least, even for Snape. Harry bit his lip as he remembered Dumbledore telling him it was for the best that he and Ginny broke up and that he should probably think about giving up Quidditch too…

If he told Dumbledore about Snape attacking him, he would also have to explain why….

….which would involve telling him about Hermione…

 _I can't lose her too. I just can't._

Harry clenched his fist as if wanting to strangle his conscious: lying to Dumbledore wasn't easy. But the memory of Snape grabbing him by his collar kept on flashing through his mind, making his blood boil.

'Professor, I'm the one who has to win this war, _and I don't trust him_.'

Dumbledore's tired features suddenly hardened.

'Professor Snape has proved to be one of the most valuable members of the Order. I do not need to remind you of his contribut-'

'-sure, fine, he does his bit for the Order every now and then, but he's too close. You know as well as I do the price of his betrayal is too high. Yet you still put _everything_ we have on him.'

Dumbledore levelled his gaze with Harry's.

'You should know by now I would never put anyone in danger,'

There was now an even more fierce fire in Dumbledore's eyes that shone through his spectacles, demanding Harry to challenge him only if he dared.

But Harry did dare.

He was going to ask the question, the answer to which everyone wanted to know but no one had ever had the guts to ask.

Returning his striking gaze, Harry spoke with a deadly even voice.

'How can you be sure he's on our side?'

What felt like an eternity passed as the Headmaster examined the boy intently. With a sigh of utmost resignation, he finally leant back in his chair, closing his eyes.

'You do not trust me, do you, Harry.' It was no question.

'You know I do, sir,' Harry said in a small voice, regretting taking out his anger on the man who had helped him so much. 'But I'm the one who has to end this war. I need to know.'

Dumbledore sighed heavily before opening his sad, tired eyes. 'Very well….

'Professor Snape blames himself for your mothers' death. From when he was a teenager to this very day, he has never stopped loving her…'

Harry felt as if he'd just been plunged into the depths of an icy ocean. He couldn't hear or feel anything. It was as if a bomb had silenced everything around him, leaving him in an aftermath of shock which robbed him of his heartbeat.

Suddenly, everything started spinning. Old memories and seemingly trivial facts started clicking together like jigsaw pieces…

...everyone said Harry looked like his Dad…his Dad who had bitterly bullied Snape….but his eyes – his eyes were his Mother's…

Harry felt a huge wave of realisation tremble through him

 _No wonder Snape hates me._

No wonder, every time Snape looked at him, his scar would burn with pain: Harry was simultaneously everything Snape hated and loved.

No matter what side Severus Snape was on, Harry thought, a double act was hard to keep up. The war was probably getting to Snape more than anyone else.

 _I guess I can't blame him for losing it._

And kind, understanding Harry was even a bit surprised it had taken Snape this long to fulfil what must be his daily wish of crushing Potter's son's bones.

 _But how long until he actually does? Should I tell Dumbledore?_

 _But if I do I'll have to tell him about Hemioner-_

'Shit,' Harry said as panic began to creep inside him.

'Harry?' Dumbledore looked on anxiously as the boy's complexion began to pale.

 _Hermione._ How could he have left her with him? What if he attacked her too?

Or worse what if he had raped-

Harry couldn't finish that thought.

'Sorry sir, I have to go.' And without waiting for a reply from the Headmaster, he dashed out of the room and sprinted down the spiral staircase, hoping against hope that he would find Hermione unscathed…

* * *

 **A review really makes my day (yes this is what my life has come to...!) lol please review! xx**


	12. Will he find out?

Previously:

 _Her head only came up to his torso, there was no way she could attempt to kiss him – is that what she wanted to do?_

She couldn't hear anything but her beating heart. She was so close to him, and he hadn't moved away from her. He hadn't moved one bit. She had no idea what she was doing. All she knew was that he felt something for her. He must do if he reacted like that. And she must need him. Otherwise why would the Room of Requirement have let him in?

With every fibre of her being shaking, she brought her hands to his chest.

Still Snape did not move.

Taking this as a positive sign, she slid her hands down, down to his waist, and finally to his belt.

At that moment, Snape grabbed her arms and pushed her roughly against the wall, his head bent maddeningly close to her neck and ear.

'You listen carefully now,' he whispered, 'you can play any games you want with your little boyfriends' - his hands dug painfully into her arms- 'but if you even _try_ to fuck with me, _you will regret it._ '

Hermione was shaking - from fear or excitement, she didn't know. He stepped forwards, closing the distance between them, his body was flush against hers. Hermione didn't dare move,

'You know that spell that you so melodramatically used on yourself?' His body was pressing hard against her, so hard that even if she wanted to, she couldn't breathe.

' _That's my spell._ '

Hermione's eyes widened, still not daring to even breathe.

' _So don't for a second underestimate what I'm capable of.'_

Finally, he let her go, and she gasped for breath. His pained, smouldering expression soon morphed back to his usual sneer reserved for teaching.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally walked away.

Hermione slumped to the floor, hugging her knees. Her mind couldn't process what had just happened. He was telling her to stay away, but that just made her want him even more. What was wrong with her?

She was even more confused than before.

She didn't get it, she didn't get _him._ Did Snape see her in _that_ way or not?

She desperately wished he did. But he was so, _so_ angry.

Why? Was he jealous?

Suddenly the door to the Room of Requirement opened and her head snapped up from her knees.

It was Harry.

She cursed herself for feeling disappointed that it wasn't Snape.

Harry ran a hand through his hair; his whole body was shaking.

'Are you ok?' he asked urgently, 'I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you with him.' An expression of deep anguish lined his face.

She should have known by now that Harry wasn't one to forget about suspicious behavior, especially when it came to Snape.

Hermione's heart stopped momentarily as a wave of panic gripped her.

He either knew there was something going on between her and Snape already, or he was going to work it out soon enough.

Hermione's heart started beating again, but this time extremely fast.

She would have to confess everything to him.

Everything.

* * *

 **I hope you're enjoying the story! Please review, it would mean a lot.**


	13. The Truth?

Hello everyone, how are you all?

Thank you so much for the feedback for the last chapter.

I'm taking a break from my job/studies that's why I can upload so fast :) Here's another cheery(!) chapter!

 **Warning: Triggers of suicide and negative thought patterns/self-hate.**

* * *

Telling Harry everything would mean she would have to tell him about her scars, about Sectumsempra and how Snape was probably "The Half-Blood Prince"- but worst of all- she would have to tell him about her feelings for her Professor.

'Hermione, you look really pale, are you ok?'

She couldn't ever tell him. She just couldn't.

Even though she felt like the contents of her stomach was about to escape her, she forced herself to speak.

'I'm fine. You're the one he hit, remember. Are you ok?'

Harry sighed and his eyes glazed over. He slumped down on the floor next to Hermione.

'I'll live,' he said, in a defeated tone.

'Harry, what's wrong?' She had never seen him so deflated before.

'Let's just say, it's now pretty clear that Snape hates me so much he wants to kill me.'

Hermione felt a heavy lump of guilt replace her panic as she saw how shaken her best friend was.

'Harry, he doesn't hate you, he just-'

'-didn't you just see how he acted?' Harry's tone was so sharp it made Hermione wince.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to snap,' he whispered as he ran frustrated fingers through his hair.

Hermione bit her lip. She was worried- she had never seen Harry so worked up before. Without thinking, she gently started to brush his fringe out of his eyes, stroking his sweaty strands with her fingers... She just wished she could make things better for him…

She felt so guilty for making him feel like this. If it wasn't for her, Snape would've never attacked him. Instead, he was blaming himself, or worse, his parents' past behavior. Harry didn't deserve that, Harry deserved so much more… _so much more than me…_

Suddenly, Hermione was pulled out of the stream of her thoughts as she realised Harry's emerald green eyes were intently set on her.

'Oh.' Hermione said, her hand freezing in the air as she realised she had been playing with his hair for quite a while now.

Unable to hold his gaze, Hermione closed her eyes as Harry slowly started to rub her arms. Her breath caught in her chest as she felt the heat of his body radiate on her.

'Harry…' she began to whisper. Despite herself, all she could think of was Snape and how strong his arms had felt and how roughly, yet effortlessly he had handled her…

This wasn't right. She shouldn't be thinking of _him_ while she was with Harry of all people.

'Listen, we need to talk…' she breathed as she felt his warm breath on her neck and his soft lips touch her skin…

Harry started slowly kissing her neck and Hermione couldn't help but let out a small moan of pleasure. It was her weak spot – a fact Harry seemed to know well..

She loved the way he made her feel, the way he made her feel _wanted, needed._ The last thing she wanted to do in the world was stop him.

But the fact of the matter was, she would trade a hundred of Harry's kisses for just one lust-filled look from Snape…

It wasn't fair on Harry.

Propping herself on her arms, she pushed him away.

'Harry, we can't do this.'

'Why not?' Harry breathed in between persistent kisses.

'Because… because of Ginny.'

On hearing his ex's name, Harry froze momentarily before letting out an exasperated, irritated sigh.

'I can't do this to her,' Hermione continued, 'she still loves you…and I think you still love her too…' Guilt flooded Hermione's stomach. Throughout all of this, she hadn't once thought about Ginny - only Snape.

'Look, you knew all this before, it didn't stop you then.' Hermione couldn't help but wince at the sting of truth his words carried as well as his accusatory tone.

'Sorry,' he began again, 'I didn't mean that, it's just… don't you think I haven't thought about this? About Ron and what he'd do if he found out? He still loves you –'

'- I doubt that-'

' –he does. Whatever, the point is, this whole thing is really complicated - just like everything else in my life.'

Hermione felt yet more guilt rise in her stomach – she was just creating more and more problems for Harry, when all he really needed was to be able to concentrate on the Hocruxes…

'…all I know is,' he continued in a softer voice as his lips brushed her neck again, 'all I know is that it feels good to be around you. Why? I don't know and it doesn't matter.'

Tears began to well Hermione's eyes. She didn't know what to do. After everything she'd put him through, she felt like she owed him.

'It feels good to be with you too…' she whispered as a silent tear escaped down her cheek.

Tentatively, she brought her lips to his. But Harry moved back to wipe away her tears instead.

'Then why are you crying?'

'I –I-...'

'What?'

More tears started to spill down her cheeks. He had been so honest with her- at the very least she owed him the truth…

'Harry…I…there's someone else…'

She felt Harry's whole body seize up around her, his eyes becoming greener than she had ever remembered.

'Who?' he breathed.

'It doesn't matt-'

'-Ron?'

Hermione shook her head sadly. She almost wished it were Ron. Things would be a lot simpler.

'Then who?'

The very thought of the person in question made her cry even more.

She was such a mess.

'It's Malfoy, isn't it?' Harry said in a deadly even tone.

She cried even more.

'I saw you with him, at the party.'

'No, Harry, it's not him. Please just drop it,' she whispered in between sobs.

'Why can't you tell me?'

'It doesn't matter. He doesn't want me, anyway...' At that Hermione buried her head in her hands, crying hard. She realized just how badly she wanted Snape to want her.

Defeated, Harry sighed.

'I can't imagine why.' Harry said simply, and Hermione felt she in no way deserved his compliment.

'Harry, I'm so, so sorry.'

Slowly, and with a forehead creased with concern, Harry moved away from her.

'Look, it's ok… Let's…let's just go down to lunch.'

* * *

They had decided it would be wiser to enter The Great Hall separately. Hermione offered to arrive later. She went back to Gryffindor Tower to sort out her spoilt makeup and tousled clothes. She had taken refuge from fellow seventh years, who would not stop pestering her about what her and Harry were passing notes about in Snape's lesson, in the bathroom adjoining her dormitory.

She could tell Harry hadn't taken what she had said well. He hadn't even looked at her as he left.

Hermione sighed and leant over the bathroom sink, her head held low, not wanting to see her reflection in the mirror.

All she wanted was Snape. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her she was beautiful and that everything would be alright, however clichéd that sounded. But he didn't want anything to do with her. And now, neither did Harry. And Harry was the only thing that was keeping her together. Without him, she felt like someone had pulled the plug and everything was swirling out of control - again.

More than anything, with a loathing that burned through her veins, she hated herself. She hated herself for feeling so low again and she hated herself for desperately needing male attention to stop her from falling apart.

But the simple fact of the matter was, without Ron, Harry or Snape, I _'m nothing._

Suddenly a glimpse of silver caught Hermione's eye in the shower next to her muggle Shampoo. Her muggle razorblade. Without thinking twice, she grabbed it. On contact with the cool strip of metal, her hands began to shake uncontrollably. A shiver ran down her spine that made her whole body tremble. Her breathing started to grow sharp and quick as her chest grew impossibly tight from the trapped tears that threatened to surface.

She could end it all here, so easily, so quietly, without any fuss…

* * *

Do let me know what you think! xx


	14. Suspicious Friends

**_Thank you for all the comments and follows :D. Severus is about to create some chaos... ;)_**

* * *

After telling McGonagall he would need to cancel all his afternoon lessons, Snape sat in his office, pretending to mark essays.

The truth was he – Severus Snape the Double Agent who was the wizarding world's best Legillimens – had completely and utterly lost it. He had lost control of his thoughts, his temper, and worse - his actions. He had hit a student, not just any student, but the Golden Boy. And Hermione – he couldn't even begin to face his feelings for the girl.

No, the thing was, Snape had acted well within reason. He had done just as Albus had instructed. To keep an eye on Golden Trio's well-being. Yes, he had done this all for the Order, for the Greater Good…

Snape summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey. Surely such a noble deed warranted a toast.

* * *

Hermione couldn't use magic to escape her emotions, not now that Snape had put a trace on her wand. Her only way out, her only way of control, was the old-fashioned, muggle way. But her hand shook as she picked up the razor, and before she knew it, the blade fell to the grey, bathroom floor with a hollow clatter.

At that moment there was a knock on the door.

'Could you hurry up please, I really need to go.'

It was Ginny.

Hermione's heart stopped.

After another impatient knock, Hermione sprang into action, grabbing her wand with still trembling hands.

'Just a minute,' she said in a more high pitched voice than was reasonable for someone who was just using the facilities.

She tried to fix her tear-stained cheeks with magic, but still she couldn't gather the strength for a simple spell. Hermione wiped her face frantically with her sleeves before she opened the door.

'Finally!' Ginny said as she ran straight past Hermione, bolting the door without a second look at her best friend.

Hermione stood frozen, rooted to the spot. She felt number than a block of ice. She couldn't just think about what would've happened if Ginny hadn't have interrupted.

She just couldn't.

Slowly, she walked to her bed and like a robot lay down, her eyes wide open as a tear mechanically leaked down her cheek.

After a distant flush of the toilet, Ginny walked into the dormitory.

'Hey, Hermione, are you coming down to dinner?' She inquired in an unusually timid voice.

'No.' There word came out automatically, devoid of expression.

There was an awkward silence in which Ginny bit her lip and hesitantly shifted her weight about her feet.

'So…I-I heard you and Harry got busted in Snape's class...' She said in a failed attempt at a casual tone.

Her best friend's tentative words were like arrows that cracked the surface of ice that had gripped Hermione's whole being. Trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body, Hermione screwed up her eyes tightly and prayed with every fibre in her body that Ginny would just leave.

 _She can't find out about Harry and me, she just can't…_

'Yeah,' was all she could manage in reply, her voice a mere croak.

Ginny opened her mouth but then closed it again. It was hard to voice a concern that had no basis other than a distinct, unnerving intuition.

An unbearable, fragile silence ensued, in which one desperately tried to break a taboo that the other just as desperately tried to hold intact.

'Well…I better get down to dinner…' Ginny sighed sadly, unable to bear the tension any longer. After another hesitant pause, she finally left the dorms.

As soon as the door shut, Hermione bit into her pillow to suffocate her cries.

* * *

As he reached the Great Hall with its usual happy chatter buzzing around, Harry felt a great sense of detachment. Everything was normal, nothing had changed. The four house tables, the illuminated floating candles and the enchanted ceiling were all in tact. Even though Harry felt _his_ world had been turned upside down and inside out, _the rest_ of the world seemed not to have noticed.

He slumped into his usual seat and made a pointed effort to ignore Ron who was quite literally eating dinner off Lavender's fingers. The empty seat next to him - Hermione's seat – made his heart sink a little as he remembered what she had just told him – _she likes someone else. But if not Ron, then who?_

'Hi, Harry,' said Neville between mouthfuls of sprouts.

'Hi,' he said automatically as he unenthusiastically jabbed at the potatoes that had just appeared on his plate.

Harry looked in the direction of Ron and Lavender, who were now nuzzling their noses together. It made him feel sick. He looked at Hermione's chair again and then at the entrance, his heart skipping as he thought he saw her bushy brown hair.

But it was just some Ravenclaw 5th year.

'Did you guys get into a lot of trouble?' Neville asked after gulping down some Pumpkin juice.

'What?'

'You know, for passing notes in Snape's class?'

'Oh, that…yeah…um just a detention.' Harry realised he didn't sound very convincing but he just wasn't in the mood.

At this moment Ron had decided to disengage himself form Lavender.

'Harry, when did you get here?' he asked as if his best friend had just arrived.

'Uh, only about ten minutes ago…'

'Oh ... Sorry I was a bit distracted…' Ron smiled with a sheepish grin.

'I noticed,' Harry said disgustedly as Lavender licked mashed-potato off Ron's little finger.

'What was that about in Snape's lesson?'

'Just stuff about Malfoy.'

Ron gave him a puzzled look. 'Malfoy?'

A flare of irritation burned through Harry. _Why the fuck is everyone so interested?_

'I'll explain later.' Hoping to put an end to all questions, he gave Ron a pointed This-is-about-Voldemort-so-I'll-explain-later look.

'Oh ok…Hey why didn't you come to Quidditch practice, you got the new captain worried as hell.'

'Quidditch practice?'

'Yeah, just before lunch. I think the captain is worried about your "commitment to Quidditich".' Harry had completely forgotten that he had Quidditch practice booked in his free period after Care of Magical Creatures.

'Well, don't worry, you didn't miss anything….so where were you? I came to get you but I didn't find you anywhere.'

'Just in the common room.' Harry said impatiently as he looked towards the entrance again. _Where the hell is Hermione?_

'No you weren't, I looked there.'

'I was probably in the library.'

'The library? You missed Quidditch to go to the _library?_ '

' _I do need to pass my exams too, you know,_ ' Harry snapped before he could stop himself. But even in his occupied state of mind, Harry realised how ridiculous that sounded coming from his mouth.

'…alright, fair enough...'

Ron, put-out by his best friend's temper, resumed being a human plate for Lavender; a streak of puzzlement, however, was creased on his forehead.

The chatter in the Great Hall was beginning to die down. Dinner Time was nearly over. Hermione was still nowhere to be seen.

'Are you scared Snape will walk in or something?' Neville asked.

'What?'

'You keep staring at the door.'

Harry suddenly realised he had been staring at the entrance for a while now and without thinking he looked at Hermione's empty chair again.

All of a sudden, as if becoming aware of the eyes burning the back of his neck, Harry turned towards Ron, who was, sure enough, staring at him. The curiosity – or was it suspicion?- ablaze in his eyes gave Harry the nasty feeling that Ron had been watching him stare at the entrance for a while now…

Harry suddenly felt a sense of claustrophobia overcome him. He needed to get away as fast as he could. Lying to his best friend was one of the hardest things he had to do. It was even worse than lying to Dumbledore.

After gulping down the rest of his Pumpkin Juice, Harry got up to leave.

'I'll see you guys later.'

And as Ron's eyes followed his best friend out the Hall, Lavender whispered darkly in his ear:

'Funny, I was in the library the whole day and I didn't see Harry once.'

* * *

Yes, Snape was drinking again, at his desk, in the middle of the day whilst he was trying to mark essays. How else would he be able to ignore the fact that he was marking Seventh Year essays and that his heart kept on stopping every time he read the name on a new roll of parchment?

 _Pansy Parkinson_

He skim-read the girl's essay and gave her a B-. Her father would complain if he gave anything lower. He did not have the time for that.

 _Neville Longbottom_

Longbottom's essay was actually pretty good, but he couldn't let him know that could he? C-

 _Ronald Weasley…_

Snape tried to focus as he read Weasley's essay. Safe to say, it did not take long to mark. It was clear that Ronald had spent less time on his essay than Snape had spent reading it.

 _F-. Next time when you copy from the textbook, please remember to copy accurately and not make spelling mistakes worthy of a five-year old._

As he held the parchment flat to let the ink of his witty comment to dry (if he did say so himself), an idea began to hatch in Snape's mind….

The Professor had been a teacher long enough to know a thing or two about the dynamics of teenage friendships and particularly about the fragility of trios.

An odd number is always tricky; someone is always bound to get left out….

And since Snape also knew well that the Red-Head had a hot temper, he figured it would take only a slight push to ensure that relations between Harry and Hermione were ruined forever…

With only a slight hesitation, Snape slid the incriminating note he had confiscated from the pair just a few hours ago into Weasley's parchment. After the paper scrolled itself up again, Snape pushed it with a quick and guilty shove towards the rest of the marked essays. They were to be returned to the students tomorrow.

Snape drummed his fingers nervously as he stared at the pile of marked essays before grabbing Weasley's essay again.

But as he did so, the image of Potter groping Hermione flashed through his mind like a nightmare he felt he had had many times before.

He placed the loaded essay firmly back in the pile.

He was doing this for the good of the Order. For the Greater Good. Hermione and Potter couldn't be together now.

Not ever.

Taking a deep breath, Snape opened his eyes and turned to the next essay:

 _Hermione Granger_

* * *

 ** _Let me know what you think!_**


	15. The Fight

Hermione prised her eyes open, remembering with a sinking feeling, yesterday's events. Snape didn't want anything to do with her, and neither did Harry, and if Ginny ever found out she had been fooling around with her ex, her best friend wouldn't either. What was worse, she wasn't even capable of ending the misery she was in.

Hermione reached out for her bedside clock. With a jolt of shock she saw it was 11 am. But before she had the chance to get herself into a panic about missing lessons, she remembered it was a Saturday and it was nearly time for lunch. The last thing in the world Hermione wanted to do was to face the rest of Hogwart's. But she didn't feel she deserved to wallow in her misery either.

Peeling off yesterday's clothes, she stepped into the shower. Better prepare herself for an hour of awkward, friendly conversation.

When she arrived at the Great Hall, the last thing she wanted to do was to sit next to Harry, but she knew she had to keep up appearances. Her chest tightened as his scent filled her lungs and the skin on her arms and neck became prickly. She didn't know why but his presence still made her nervous. But Harry didn't even seem to notice her arrival. He was apparently too engrossed in conversation with Ron. This sight was a little odd for Hermione, who had gotten used to seeing Ron solely devote all his attention to Lavender. Maybe he was finally trying to make up for the past few weeks of neglect.

Harry reached over for the roast potatoes, and then for the gravy and a few minutes later for the sprouts. Hermione found it strange that he was always seemed to want the food on her side….and as their shoulders touched once again, Harry caught her eye. Hermione blushed nervously as she realised he was doing it on purpose.

Ron cleared his throat, breaking their silent exchange.

'So, you two, what's been up between you? You guys have been acting funny all week.'

Harry momentarily stopped chewing and, had Hermione swallowed her Pumpkin Juice half a second later, she would have choked.

'Don't be silly.' she replied. It was one of the first words Hermione had exchanged directly with Ron since Lavender…

Ron continued to eye his two best friends suspiciously as they tried to eat their food.

The two shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It was difficult trying to pretend the conversation was not making them seriously uncomfortable when, with every gulp, they felt like they were swallowing lead.

'You know, you never did tell me what you were writing about in Snape's lesson …' Hermione stopped in mid chew, Harry swallowed hard.

 _Does he know?_

But it was impossible, he couldn't know.

And anyway it was a fair enough question. That's all it was, an innocent question…

'Oh you know, just stuff about Malfoy.' Harry carried on eating, not meeting Ron's eye.

'Wonny-wonny, don't you want to try a bit of my treacle?'

'Later, Lav.' Ron brushed a disappointed Lavender away like a fly. He turned to Harry. 'Is that all?'

Ron was smiling innocently, not maliciously…

'Yeah- Neville, could you pass me the broccoli-'

'-Are you sure _that's all_?' Ron's implicative tone was becoming harder to ignore. Hermione stared at her food as if it were the most fascinating thing since the discovery of Crumple Horned Snorlacks.

' _That's all.'_ Harry said through gritted teeth.

This time Ron stopped eating and he leant back in his chair, with cold, almost dead eyes.

'Funny, I've got something here that's says something quite different.' He reached into his pocket and carelessly threw a piece of tattered parchment their way, his gaze never once leaving Harry's.

Most of the Gryffindor table were silent by now, their attention caught by Ron's unusual refrain from eating.

Harry didn't move. Hermione reached for the parchment with shaking hands, just to prove to herself that it couldn't be, it couldn't possibly be…

But there was one thing that no one could deny: that neat italic handwriting was Hermione's and that jagged scrawl was definitely Harry's.

'It's not what it looks like…' Harry breathed at the sight of Hermione's pale face.

But what else could it look like?

 _I was your rebound,_ she had written.

 _Fuck Ron. Fuck Ginny. All I care about is you,_ he had written.

'Liar.' Ron's aggressive gaze bore into Harry's like darts of fire.

'Oh for Pete's sake, we haven't done anything wrong.' Hermione whispered harshly, desperate to not make a scene as she noticed the other tables were slowly becoming interested in their little confrontation.

'Yeah, well why did you lie about it?' Ron had no qualms about the rest of the school hearing as his voice rose to a shout. 'You're a traitor Harry, a filthy traitor.'

Harry's fists clenched into a tight ball under the table, his knuckles white.

'Listen to yourself, Ron!' Hermione said in a strained voice, 'you and Lavender are going out, you cannot dictate who me and Harry can and can't go out with.'

Ron looked at Hermione dumbstruck. You couldn't argue with that….It seemed as if the argument could have ended there and then with dignity, perhaps in a stiff awkward silence, or Ron storming off, or anything other than –

'This has nothing to do with you, you filthy whore, this - this is about Harry cheating on my little sister!'

Angry tears stung in Hermione's eyes. _She_ should be the one calling him names, _she_ should be the one who was angry him. Her chest rose as frustration flared through her. _It's so fucking unfair._

'You're not worth my breath, Ron, you – you –' and before she said something unforgivable, she boldly rose and shaking from head to toe walked out of the Hall. Ron may not have been worth her breath but it seemed he was worth her tears, which kept rolling uncontrollably down her cheeks.

'You fucking prick.' Harry shouted at Ron as Ginny rose from the end of the table to see what on earth was causing such coarse language. By now the Hall was deathly silent.

'Ron, why are you acting like such a twat?' she chimed, casting a wary look at Harry.

'Here,' he spat to his younger sister as passed her that annoying piece of parchment. Ginny froze, rooted to the spot.

 _Fuck Snape. Fuck Ron. Fuck Ginny. All I care about is you._

Her head swayed a little. That was Harry's writing…She didn't believe it, Harry loved her…She didn't believe it.

'Harry, this, this is a joke, right?'

'Oh for fuck's sake, we broke up remember?' Harry got up to leave. It was all a fucking joke. He had to find Hermione.

'Where the fuck do you think you're going?' Ron had risen out of his chair, blocking Harry's path, Ginny still standing there, heartbroken.

Harry's teeth were bared. 'Get the fuck out of my way.'

And before either of them knew what was happening Ron had punched Harry in the mouth, blood pouring everywhere.

And they were fighting, no wands, just man to man, testosterone versus testosterone.

They rammed into Hufflepuff's table, plates and cutlery smashing to the floor as people screamed, desperate to get away from the two.

Harry was stronger. And soon he had Ron's freckled cheek against the stone floor, struggling between Harry's vice like grip. He was about to deliver a fatal, nose-breaking-jaw-deforming punch to Ron's face, when a shrill voice met Harry's ear.

'STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING IMMEDIATELY UNLESS YOU BOTH WANT TO BE EXPELLED!' It was professor Mcgonagall, she had abandoned her lunch and had come swooping down on the scene. Harry stopped his fist inches away from Ron's face,

'You're very, very lucky she's here to save your arse.' Harry hissed in his ear as he dropped Ron's head to the floor, kneeing his sensitive area for good measure before he left Ron lying on the ground.

He made his way past the incredulous, slightly scared gazes.

'POTTER COME BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY!' screamed Mcgonagall.

But he didn't care how many points were knocked off Gryffindor or how many detentions he would get, he needed to find Hermione.

But Hermione, with every step fueled with anger and bitterness at the injustice of the situation, was already marching her way to the dungeons. There was only one man responsible for making her life ten times worse than it already was.

And she was going to make sure he paid.

* * *

:D Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! More Snape action to come...!


	16. Shades of Light

Hi there! So glad to hear you guys enjoyed the last chapter!

 **Warning: abusive and explicit content. Everything belongs to JKR.**

* * *

 _That is just as well, Potter," said Snape coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."  
"No - that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot at him.  
He had not meant to say it; it had burst out of him in temper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Harry convinced he had gone too far. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape's face when he answered.  
"Yes, Potter," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my job."_

 _ **Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 26**_

* * *

Snape hadn't left his school office since yesterday. Last night, after he had tied the essays to the owls to send to the students, he had decided to have a little party in order to congratulate himself on his quick wit and the overall amazing life he was leading. He had two slave drivers for masters and he had no life whatsoever for himself. What wasn't there to celebrate? All in all, two years before reaching forty, he had achieved quite a lot. Wouldn't you say?

One thing that did go without saying was that he probably shouldn't have drank seven bottles of Firewhiskey, and he certainly shouldn't be drinking more in order to cure his hangover.

* * *

The feeling of injustice ran ablaze in Hermione's veins and she wanted the pain to burn through Snape as much as it did through her. She would make sure of it.

Fuming with rage, Hermione pounded down the corridor, her hair becoming more frazzled with every step. She was furious. He had hurt not only her, but the people she loved most.

But as she descended the cool depths of the dungeons, a sense of dread overcame her as her skin prickled painfully with goosebumps. She tried to run faster but it only made things worse since the icy air punctured her lungs. As her burning fury could no longer compete with the steep drop in temperature, Hermione slowed to a halt, her wispy white breath escaping through chattering teeth.

With her body shivering to the very core, it occurred to her that the dungeons were this cold because it was a Saturday - no lessons were taking place so there was no need for the heating to be on.

It was a Saturday - so Snape shouldn't be in his office.

Except he would be.

He would be there.

Waiting for her.

In that moment, every single frenzied emotion inside her froze like tiny icicles in her chest, piercing her every breath with panic.

He had set her up.

Willing, no - needing - to prove herself wrong and that this was all in her head, she bravely took the remaining steps to his office. With her shallow breaths rattling in her ears and her head spinning, she pushed the door open.

And there he was, sitting at his desk with a bottle of something that he definitely shouldn't be drinking during school hours.

His only reaction to Hermione's entrance was to raise his bottle and pierce her with a dark, devouring gaze.

He had planned this - all of this.

He had given the note to Ron.

He had known she would run to him.

Like a lost puppy.

Infuriatingly, irrationally, her heart beat simultaneously with self-hatred and excitement.

She had done exactly as he intended.

Hadn't he planned all this for her to run to him?

To be alone with him?

But Snape clearly didn't care for her. What kind of a person would ruin her and her best friends' lives? During a critical moment of the war?

Didn't his actions show he was not a man who was on the side of the Light?

In that moment, Hermione decided to put her desires for her Professor aside and see the situation for what it really was.

This man was a Death Eater.

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, panic and adrenaline filling her whole body.

And, right now, he was also a drunk Death Eater.

She raised her wand.

Snape's lips twisted into a smile at her expression.

'My, my, my... is the Brightest Witch of Them All finally realizing just who she is flirting with?'

He took another swig of his bottle, his eyes never leaving hers.

'Do you have any idea what you've done?' She whispered unsure of what exactly she was planning to do, or what _he_ was planning to do.

'I only live to serve.'

'Question is, to serve whom?'

Snape's smile widened menacingly.

'Ah, that is an excellent question, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Hermione's heart beat fast in her chest as Snape stood up from his desk.

'Many a wizard has tried to answer it. The trouble is-'

-Hermione gripped her wand tighter-

'-the one person who should know-'

-with a menacing smile, he took another swig from his bottle-

'-doesn't know himself'.

His eyes glittered dangerously as he placed his bottle on his desk. In that moment, Hermione felt like she fully understood for the first time why Harry and Ron were suspicious of him since their first year: Snape was first and foremost a Servant to the Dark Lord.

'Perfectus Totalus!' She shouted suddenly as he stepped in front of his desk.

Snape only laughed, and even in his drunken state, easily deflected the spell with a lazy flick.

'Stupefy! _'_ her voice rang out shrilly as he effortlessly waved the spell away again. Hermione took a step back as he drew in closer, his smile becoming more and more sinister.

' _Sectum-!'_ This time, Hermione's deflected spell hit his chandelier, smashing the crystals and putting out the candles.

Shrouded in semi-darkness, Snape moved quickly to fully back Hermione against the now closed door.

'Now, now Miss Granger,' he purred as he lowered her wand. 'Where are your manners? It's rude to use the opponents' own spell against him, don't you know… ' his arm now leant against the door behind her, so she was well and truly trapped between him and the hard wood.

She looked at him with frightened eyes, as the smell of alcohol filled her lungs.

'You're drunk, Professor…' she whispered as her heart beat deafeningly loud in her ears.

'Another ten points to Gryffindor…' he whispered. Despite her frightened state, his voice sent delicious shivers down her spine and Hermione tried hard to calm her shaking body.

But as he pressed himself against her, she felt breathless and her knees almost gave way.

'Now, instead of casting spells,' his lips brushed her neck and then her ear, 'why don't you tell me how much the prospect of danger excites you,' one hand moved towards her waist making her breath hitch, 'about how much the Golden Girl loves the Dark Professor,' another hand worked beneath her skirt against her bare legs, 'and how, deep down, you only read all those books to hide the fact that all you really want,' his long fingers stroked the top of her thigh, 'is to suck your nasty professor's cock.'

Hermione bit her lip in a bid to control her quivering body as she closed her eyes in anguish: a war was breaking inside her. Everything about this was wrong. _He_ was wrong. But was he? Wasn't he speaking the truth?

'Tell me how much you want me to fuck you, to show you what a true slut you are.'

She writhed as his hand painfully grabbed her buttocks.

'Go on, _beg me._ '

Against her will and with her eyes still closed, silent tears began to stream down her face.

At that moment a huge thud vibrated through their bodies – someone was knocking on the door.

' _Severus_.' An angry voice bellowed.

It was Dumbledore.

* * *

 **:D Please let me know what you think!**


	17. A Private Conversation

**Hi again! Thanks for your comments. Hope school/ uni / work / holidays are treating you all well. Here is the next instalment as promised... enjoy and please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Snape momentarily stiffened around her before he sprang into action. He grabbed her by the arms and shoved her to the other side of the room.

'Go underneath the desk,' he whispered, panic escaping into his voice.

But Hermione was too shocked to move.

' _Now,'_ he hissed. But Hermione did not move – not of her own accord anyway. Instead, with the help of a spell, Snape shoved Hermione under the desk, before casting a Disillusionment spell on her to make her blend in with the stone floor.

The utter bliss that she felt made her quickly realise that he had used the Imperius spell: An Unforgiveable Curse.

Snape also shoved his bottles under the desk.

Hermione knew she had to fight the spell, but when she heard who it was her heart stopped to a slow, and painful pound.

'Albus, to what do I owe this delightful pleasure?' Snape drawled, not even trying to hide his sarcasm.

Hermione watched Dumbledore's pointed red and gold shoes. She didn't dare breathe or move. A Disillusionment charm did not make you invisible.

'Harry and Ronald have had a fight. Ronald is currently in the Hospital Wing. Harry is with McGonagall.'

Hermione, still bound by the spell, fought hard to get up or at least make a sound of shock, but, in the end, the spell won.

'Oh dear,' Snape said, not sounding at all upset, 'what happened?'

'I think you know the answer to that question.'

She saw Snape move to the other side of the desk and sit down. Albus sat in the chair in front of the desk, and Snape expertly moved Hermione back before Dumbledore's leg collided with her. Unfortunately, this also meant that she was leaning against Snape.

'I did as you asked me to: to keep an eye on the Trio. Granger was too much of a distraction for Potter. You said he was distracted yourself.'

'Severus,' Dumbeldore's tone was even and stern, 'you have effectively thrown a live grenade and made the situation a hundredfold worse.'

'On the contrary,' Snape drawled, 'to continue with your Muggle analogy, I have detonated the grenade _before_ it has had a chance to explode. The Trio's relations have been strained for quite some time. It is best we deal with the fall-out now than have it affect the course of actions further ahead in the future.'

The Imperius Curse made her feel so light headed, Hermione could hardly analyse or reflect on what she was hearing. To make the situation worse, Snape had placed a hand on her shoulder, making her heart race a million times faster.

'Did you, in all honesty, really think that the most prudent thing to do was to act without consulting me and then throw yourself a congratulatory pity-party in the middle of the day?'

Hermione had never heard Dumbledore so angry before.

'You have been quite busy with Potter, and this really was a logical solution to the problem of Potter's distraction.' Snape said, perfectly composed.

'Oh, you really think so? With his best friend in hospital, and his other best friend distraught?'

'It is the wakeup call he needed in order to realise the damage he is causing by frolicking with Granger.'

'Ah yes, Miss Granger.'

'What about her?'

'Tell me Severus, why is it that you are in your office on a Saturday when you have no scheduled duties?'

Even in her cursed state, Hermione could feel the silence that ensued was fraught with tension.

'As you so eloquently put it,' Snape began slowly, 'I am having a "congratulatory pity-party". Care to join?'

'That depends if there's anyone else attending.' The Headmaster's voice was deathly low.

'If there's something you wish to say, I suggest you say it.' Snape's voice was hard and even.

'Where is Miss Granger, Severus?'

'How in the Dark Lord's name should I know?'

'She would be the first to realise it was you who had caused this chaos; she would be the first to confront you. Don't tell me you didn't know that when you did this.'

'You forget I don't estimate the girl's intelligence as highly as you.'

'No, _you_ forget, Severus, that the walls of this castle are lined with portraits of people who have eyes, ears, and mouths.'

How much did Dumbledore know? Or did he merely have a suspicion and was bluffing?

'Thank you Headmaster, but I would prefer it if you didn't give away the ending to Hogwart's: A History. It's a rather riveting read.'

There was a bang on the table which would have made Hermione jump if she wasn't cursed.

'Drink. Now.'

There was a pregnant pause.

'As a former Potions Professor, you cannot possibly expect me to drink an unmarked phial.'

'Severus,' Dumbledore hissed in his iciest of tones, 'drink it now or you will no longer be a Professor of any subject at Hogwarts.'

Hermione heard Snape sigh in frustration as he let go of her shoulder. She heard the phial bang on the table again, and Snape firmly placed his hand on her once more.

'While the sobering potion takes effect and you come to your senses, let me tell you a story,' Dumbledore began tersely, 'a story of a young boy who - rejected by his first love and peers- sought validation from a much older man. A man who was much more clever, sophisticated, and powerful than the boy's contemporaries. This man repaired the boy's self-esteem because the boy believed that the powerful, charismatic older man could see something in him that his so-called friends could not. Does that story sound familiar, Severus?'

Hermione felt Snape's grip become tighter on her shoulder.

Without missing a beat Snape replied, 'if you're implying that The Dark Lord and I had a sexual relationship than you really should consider taking Rita Skeeter's job.'

'Are youimplying that relations between you and Miss Granger have taken on a sexual nature?'

There was a split-second in which an innocent man wouldn't have remained silent.

'Here's me thinking the story was about me.'

'This isn't the time to play games. You need to answer the question: is the relation between you and Miss Granger no longer professional?'

This time, Snape was quick to reply,

'Only if it's possible to have a "non-professional" relation with a girl who looks like a toilet brush.'

At that Dumbledore stood up and Snape's grip on Hermione's shoulder became tighter.

' _You may be able to still choose your words wittily when you're half-drunk, but you do not choose them wisely. You do not have the right to speak about students in that manner. What I was trying to tell you, is that if Miss Granger shows you any signs of affection, it is only because she is suffering from low self-esteem. Do not flatter yourself to think it is anything more than that. And if you are feeling any affection towards the girl, it is only because you have not let go of your grudge against James, whose son has been caught in the crossfire of you and your unresolved memories more than once.'_

Dumbledore stopped to breathe, his voice was so low, it had become a rasp.

' _And If I find any misconduct on your part, I will not hesitate to send you to Azkaban. Spy or no spy. Do I make myself clear?'_

Snape stood up as well.

'Crystal clear, Headmaster.'

With that, Dumbledore's red and gold shoes stormed out of the room and as soon as the door slammed shut, Hermione felt the curse lift off her, and her mind began to process what she had just heard.

She didn't want to move from under the table.

She couldn't face him.

But she couldn't stay there forever.

Crouching on all fours, she made her way out. This is what he had reduced her to: crawling on her hands and knees. And she had let him.

She was so ashamed of herself.

As she stood up, she looked at him: his head bowed causing his hair to hide his face. He didn't have the audacity to look at her. Not anymore.

Hermione made for the door. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing else left to say anyway.

'Hermione-' At the use of her first name, Hermione felt her skin prickle at the back of her neck. She stopped, but she didn't look back.

'About what I said, it was…'

After a few moments of silence, Hermione finally turned to face him. His eyes were closed, his forehead creased, his fingers, that were caressing her just minutes before, were now pinching the bridge of his nose in anguish.

He still couldn't bear to look at her.

How could he when she looked like a "toilet brush"?

She had nothing left.

Not one shred of dignity.

He had assaulted her, used an unforgiveable curse on her, and insulted her in front of Dumbledore.

Did he really think he could repair the damage he had caused in a few words?

She felt neither sadness nor anger.

She literally had nothing anymore.

Before he could finish his sentence, she opened the door and left.

All she knew was that she needed to find Harry.

She would tell him everything. This time, truly everything.

And finally, she would be the friend he needed.

* * *

After trying to find Hermione in vain, Harry had got a lecture from McGonagall, a lecture from Dumbledore and a fuck load of scared looks from the rest of the school. Everyone had kept a wide breadth of him, as if scared he would lash out at any moment.

Probably a wise decision too.

Not being able to find Hermione had made him feel even more frustrated and angry. Even his usual method of relieving stress by taking a fast and furious ride on his broom did nothing. The image of Ron, lying on the floor, his left eye glued together, yellow pus seeping out of it and running into the blood pouring out of his mouth, kept burning through his mind. It made his stomach twist so violently with guilt, that bile would rise in his throat.

But then he would remember what Ron had said to Hermione and he began regretting furiously as ever why he hadn't smashed his best friend's bones then and there.

With his Firebolt slung over his shoulder, Harry stormed down the corridors and practically ripped through the portrait of the Fat Lady as he entered Gryffindor Tower.

'Harry, are you alright mate?' It was Neville.

'Just fuck off,' Harry shouted, pushing past him. But Neville followed him up the staircase.

'No need to bite my head off-' Harry wheeled round to glare at him as threateningly as if Ron were standing there instead.

Neville, showing the same trepidation as all those years ago on the night they wanted to get the Philosopher's stone, stood his ground.

'McGonagall needs to speak to Hermione. Do you know where she is?'

'No,' Harry growled in frustration before turning round and stomping to his dorm.

No, he didn't know where Hermione was, and he sure as hell didn't care either.

What did McGonagall want to see Hermione for anyway? Probably to tell her the same thing as they had told him - that they should stay away from each other, that they were making things unnecessarily volatile, that the Sorting Hat had warned that they should unite from within and not fight, and all that shit.

Harry slumped onto his bed. He had never been in such a foul mood in all his life. It wasn't like him. But he was just sick and tired of people telling him what to do all the time.

He tossed and turned. How was he going to sleep tonight? Hoping to block the ringing in his ears, Harry buried his head under his pillow. But as his head hit the mattress, instead of the soft cotton of the sheets meeting his cheek, a rough surface scratched him instead.

Lifting his head up, he saw it was a piece of parchment. But it wasn't any old parchment - it was the Marauderer's map.

So that's where it got to.

He shoved it under his pillow. He didn't need it. He didn't care where Hermione was, and he didn't want to know.

But of course, he did.

Within seconds, he pulled out the map, and activated it with a tap of his wand, his eyes darting frantically as he tried to find Hermione's name.

And he couldn't believe where he finally found it.

On the top of the Ground Floor stair case that only led down to one place: The Dungeons.

* * *

 **Will Harry find out the truth? As always I love to hear what you think!**


	18. Golden Girl No More

_"Certainly not. You must kill me."_

 _There was a long silence, broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone._

 _"Would you like me to do it now?" asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"_

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

* * *

As soon as Hermione had emerged from the Dungeons, she instantly regretted not staying there for longer: now in the Hogwarts main building, all she received was dirty looks among scandalous whispers. A few people muttered 'bitch' as she walked past, one person even shouted 'home-wrecker'. Her heart sank, as she realized everyone, including Gryffindor tower, was going to side with Ron and Ginny, and that the next few weeks would be sheer hell. All she wanted to do now was to curl up somewhere safe and familiar and pretend none of this had happened.

'Hermione wait up!'

No such luck.

She turned round to find Neville panting as he ran to catch up with her, she tugged on her sleeve to make sure it covered her scarred skin.

'Where've you been? I've been looking everywhere for you! McGonagall needs to see you urgently.'

'What? Why?' Hermione asked, a sinking sense of dread overcoming her.

'I don't know, but she told me she'd pair me up with Malfoy for the rest of the term if I didn't find you.' Neville said, shuddering at the very thought. 'Hermione, are you alright?' Neville asked at the sight of Hermione's pale complexion.

'Yes, I'm fine.' Truth was she felt sick with worry. What on earth did McGonagall want with her?

'Thanks, Neville.'

And so Hermione made her way to the Head of Gryffindor's office.

...

'Please take a seat, Miss Granger and stop looking so afraid. You're not in any trouble.'

Hermione nervously sat down, never once feeling Mcgonagall's piercing gaze leave her. The Professor's hair was drawn sternly in a tight bun, veins of grey visible in places. Her face was not without wrinkles but her skin was taut, a certain youth and sharpness stubbornly refusing to leave her face. Her lips were thin and were stretched in a way to show that in all her shrewdness therein lay kindness.

'Now, it has come to my attention, and certain other members of staff, that you haven't been feeling yourself of late.'

Hermione froze as she tugged on her sleeve, making sure her wrist was covered.

'Oh?' She said as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring the twisting knot in her stomach, the sudden dryness of her throat.

Mcgonagall carried on surveying her for a few more seconds, before sighing.

'Hermione, is there anything you would like to talk about?' There was a slight desperation in her voice.

Hermione shook her head and averted her gaze to the floor, not able to bear that concerned look.

'These are hard times, for all of us,' Mcgonagall continued, 'War leaves us with little time to worry about ourselves and you've all had to grow up so quickly,' she paused to x-ray Hermione with another searching stare. 'I will ask you one more time - Hermione, is there anything - _anything at all_ \- that you would like to talk about?'

Hermione hesitated. Maybe she should say something? Maybe she was getting in more trouble than she realised? But what would she say? She was in love with Snape? That she had used a cutting spell on herself? If her Head of House ever found out about Snape or her scars, she would be shipped to Mungo's straight away. The very thought sent shivers through her. What use would she be there? She needed to help Harry.

'No, Professor. There is nothing.'

Something akin to disappointment flickered through the Professor's eyes.

'You'd do well to remember that in times of need, you are the only one who can truly help yourself.'

Hermione thought of all the ways she could help herself. And there were none. Snape had a version of events that would cover his back – everything he had done so far was for the Order, and nothing to do with any feelings of attraction between them. And Dumbledore was fine to forget everything that had happened as long as things didn't escalate any further.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione snapped back to the present moment, realizing that the Professor had been looking at her with furrowed brows for a while now.

Hermione cleared her throat.

'If that's all Professor, I've had a long day and wish to go to bed.'

'No, that is not all.' McGonagall suddenly sat up straighter and shuffled a few parchments on her desk, her tone no longer sympathetic, but cold and matter-of- factly.

'Miss Granger it has come to all the staff's attention that your school uniform no longer complies with Hogwart's regulations. Most of us have only chosen to overlook this discrepancy given your excellent record. '

Hermione blushed crimson.

'But unfortunately the rest of the school have not been so forgiving and I am sure you have heard the more unwholesome rumours your new look has inspired.'

'I assure you, any rumours are just rumours,' Hermione said as she closed her eyes not able to withstand McGonagall's judgmental look any longer.

'Are you aware that Ronald Weasley is currently in the Hospital Wing?'

Hermione's eyes snapped open, wide with worry. Dumbledore had said Harry and Ron had had a fight and was in the Hospital Wing, but surely just for a checkup? Had Harry hurt him so badly that he had to stay overnight? Or longer?

'Is he ok?'

'In all my years at Hogwart's I have never seen two best friends fight like that.'

'I can't believe … I never meant…. ' Hermione asked floundering for words whilst trying to gulp down the lump forming in her throat. 'Are you blaming me?' she asked feeling McGonagall's accusatory glare on her.

'Of course not. But what I am saying is that the nature of your relationship with Mr Potter - whatever that may be - is doing more harm than good. I advise you to stay away from each other.'

More than anything Hermione needed Harry now, she needed to help him with the Horcruxes, she needed to tell him about Sectumsempra, about Snape, about everything that had happened.

'I thank you for your concern, Professor, but we are old enough to be able to make our own decisions.'

McGonagall sighed again, this time out of frustration.

'Let me put this another way, Miss Granger. Harry's behaviour and actions do not just affect his personal life but the outcome of this war. It is vital he concentrates all his energies at the task at hand.'

Shame and guilt twisted a painful knot in Hermione's stomach.

But more than anything in the world right now, _she needed Harry._

'Professor, I know that more than anyone. But we're friends and if you keep telling us what we can and can't do or feel until the war is over - which may be years from now - well, _that_ will end up doing Harry more harm than good.'

McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

'As members of the Order of the Phoenix it is our responsibility to make sure there is a future at all for Harry. Miss Granger, you must stay away from him. These are instructions from the Order. Failure to comply will result in withdrawal of your membership.'

Hermione felt numb with disbelief. 'You can't dictate our lives….' she whispered, fully aware she was disobeying her once favourite teacher.

'Whatever it is that's gotten into you, it's leading you astray.'

Hermione suddenly felt her scars on her arm burn. She stood up, frightened that McGonagall knew much more than she was letting on.

'May I leave?'

'I mean it, Miss Granger...'

And Hermione was dismissed with a stiff nod.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Hermione rested her head against the wooden frame. Half of her wanted to run back in and explain everything to McGonagall and the other half wanted to obliviate the infuriating woman's memory. Hermione felt panic and shame rise in her as she read somewhere that depending on the nature of the magic you practice, your magical aura changes colour. What if McGonagall could see she had been using a Dark spell? What if being addicted to Sectumsempta actually made her a bad influence? What if they were right, what if she was a bad influence on Harry? What if she was putting him in danger?

 _No, No I can't be...I can't be… I need to help him.._

But the truth of the matter was, she just simply _needed_ him. She needed him to tell her everything was alright. to make her feel clean and not disgustingly dirty. She was sure if she found him, if she told him about Sectumsempra about Snape, about everything – he would forgive her, he would reassure her that she wasn't a slut or a whore, that she was just confused, and that soon the scars on her arm would disappear and everything would be back to normal.

Resolving to find him if it was the last thing she did, she started running towards Gryffindor Tower.

She nearly collapsed in relief when she saw him, waiting for her at the end of the corridor. The torchlights lined the walls, casting his features in shadow.

'Harry!' Hermione exclaimed breathlessly, running up to him. 'Harry, I'm so glad I've found you, I need to tell-' she stopped mid-sentence, shocked at the state of his face. A purply-blue bruise had formed on his left eye, his lightning scar looked redder than ever and a trail of dried blood ran from the corner of his puffy lower lip.

She reached out to wipe the blood off but he pulled away.

'Ron's in the Hospital Wing,' he said. The bitterness in his voice was so intense, it made Hermione wince.

'Oh Harry, I'm so sorry,' she whispered, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. She had never seen Harry's face so twisted with anger before.

'Don't be. You didn't put him there. I did,' he said through barred teeth. 'Where have you been?'

Hermione opened her mouth, to tell him everything. But under his hard, unforgiving stare, she felt herself cower and the words became stuck in her throat.

'I - I - I - just needed some air...'

Harry held up a piece of parchment crawling with black ink - the Marauderers Map.

'Much air in the Dungeons?'

'I can explain…' Hermione said, unable to stop tears of panic flooding her face.

'Really? Explain what? It doesn't take drinking a potion with Crabbe's pubes in it to know that there is only one thing in the Dungeons: the Slytherin Common room.'

'Harry please, it's not like that-'

'-is that why you wouldn't tell me who your lover-boy is, because he's a scumbag Slytherin?'

'N-n-no,' she stammered trying hard to control her heaving chest.

'So who is it? Are you screwing Malfoy after Potions? Are you sucking off Goyle in the Broom Cupboard?'

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but she was sobbing so hard, she didn't have the breath to answer.

'You know what, I don't care,' he spat before wheeling round and walking away.

Hermione's stifled cries filled the air.

After a few fuming, bitter strides, Harry turned around again, giving her a long, hard look.

'I just hope you know what you're doing.' And with that, he walked away for good.

…

Hermione collapsed to the floor in a tearful mess. In the space of a few hours she had lost all of her best friends. Ron and Ginny she could handle losing, but Harry- Harry was her only ray of light in this dark place she had fallen in. And now he too was gone.

Hermione pulled back her left sleeve to trace with her scars with her trembling fingers.

She had two options: either finish the job she had started or go to _him_ …

She didn't know which one was worse.

But, in the end, she didn't have to decide.

He was standing there, as tall and strong and mysterious as ever, with his arm outstretched, offering his hand for her to take…

* * *

 **Don't review!**

 ***attempts to use reverse psychology***


	19. Sorrys and Pleases

**Thanks for reading! Here's another chapter of this - uh- messed up story! :D**

 **As always, please let me know what you think! xxx**

* * *

Of course, she didn't take his hand. After everything that he had done and said.

Still on the floor, she averted her eyes.

'Just go,' she whispered. She just wanted to be alone. How much humiliation could a girl take in one night?

Suddenly, she felt something heavy and warm surround her shoulders and back: his cloak. His scent which clung to its black, surprisingly soft fabric, filled her lungs.

He was now crouching beside her.

'Please,' he said in such a strained, hoarse voice, she knew it wasn't a word he used often. Slowly, she looked up to meet his dark eyes, a shock of electricity passing through her as she did so.

Did it pass through him too? Even if it did, he never once broke his unrelenting gaze.

'We need to talk.'

Still, she didn't move.

'Please.' That word again, so foreign on his lips.

After a long pause, finally she nodded.

She made to stand up, but he was up quicker, and he gripped her arms to make sure she was stable once upright. An awkward silence hung between them before he let her go. Hermione looked at him and he averted his eyes: without his cloak, it was as if he were naked, and Hermione felt, for once, she had an advantage over him. An advantage he had freely given her when he had put the cloak on her.

'Follow me,' he said.

Hermione prayed that they weren't going to his office, where so much had happened that she wanted to forget. Thankfully, he took her to the nearest classroom. Once inside, he shut the door and sighed deeply.

'I'm sorry,' he said simply, 'for everything.'

Feeling light-headed, Hermione walked to sit on the edge of a desk. Tears began to course silently down her face.

She didn't know what to say or think.

She didn't know anything anymore.

* * *

Snape moved closer to the girl - the girl he had hurt so, so much. There was a sadness in her eyes that made him almost not want to do what he was about to, but he wanted to know. He bore into her mind – he only managed to get a few seconds before she blocked him by closing her eyes. He didn't stop her, she had dealt with enough tonight. And the few seconds he had caught were enough: He saw the way McGonagall and Harry had treated her. And now she was here, and he needed to fix things.

'Hermione, -I-' he began, but he was lost for words. In all of his adult life he had never stammered once. 'Hermione, you need to listen to me: I'm only going to say this once. I'm never, ever going to tell you you're beautiful.' At that her shoulders slumped, her chest shaking from suppressing tears.

'You know why?' he continued his voice hoarse and deep due to his alcohol-abused throat, 'because you don't need me, Potter, that stupid red-head or _anyone_ to tell you.' Now she was crying more heavily.

'You should know already,' he said, much more gently. 'It's obvious.'

At that, Hermione stopped crying, and looked up at him. Snape wanted to look away from her and increase the distance between them, but his hung-over body wouldn't obey him.

'Prove it,' she whispered.

Closing the gap between them, she brought her shaking hands flat against his chest. She slid them down his shirt.

'I'm not the man you think I am.' He whispered, still completely unwilling to move.

'Then show me what kind of man you are.'

What the hell, why not? As she said, he was a man. She was a young witch. And Merlin knew he was no saint.

But this girl was vulnerable. Even in his half-drunken state, he knew it wasn't right. No matter how willing her soft, young body was.

He lowered his head to her lips. He couldn't kiss her even if he wanted to. He hadn't kissed anyone on the lips since Lily died.

'Hermione, you don't want to do this with me.'

'I do.' Her hands, momentarily rendered immobile by the prospect of a kiss began to work their way down his torso and onto his belt.

Snape did his best to control his bodily reactions, but knew he was fighting a losing war. He grabbed her fingers before they ventured further beyond their experience.

'You don't want to do this with me.' But, still, he didn't, _couldn't_ move away from her.

'Why?'

'I'm twice your age, Hermione.'

'So?'

'You're too innocent.'

At that she untangled her hands from his and made for his belt again.

'I'm not.'

Snape breathed hard, hoping to regain control of the situation.

' _You are,'_ he whispered as he firmly grabbed hold of her hands, wishing with all his being that he was still drunk and unable to stop her.

He brought his lips to her ear.

'You're so naïve, you don't even understand that you could have any boy in this damn place.' He saw a rosy blush spread to her neck, her skin prickling with goosebumps and her body shook. She didn't believe him. Dumbledore was right, she had very low self-esteem. What had happened to make her think so little of herself?

He sighed heavily and rested his forehead on hers. 'You don't need me, trust me.'

'I do,' she whispered breathlessly. 'Please.'

There was nothing Snape wanted more than to give the girl what she wanted.

After a few moments of ragged breathing, he finally gathered his senses.

'I'm still drunk, Hermione. And you've had a rough night.' As gently as he could, he pushed her away. 'Go get some rest.'

Slowly, the girl came to herself. She wiped the tears from her face and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. She looked at him, disappointed, embarrassed, and, still wearing his cloak, she left.

* * *

With nowhere else to go, Hermione had spent the night in the girl's bathroom. She had put the lid of a toilet down and sat on it, folding up Snape's cloak to use as a pillow against the cubicle wall. She simply couldn't face Ginny.

The next morning, she was woken up by a flush from the next cubicle. Moaning Myrtle suddenly floated in grinning.

For a split second, Hermione was completely disorientated, but then, with a sinking feeling, it all came back to her. Once she was at the sink, she couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror. She knew she looked like a mess. But she couldn't go back to her Dorm; she couldn't see Ginny. She just couldn't. Instead, she washed her hands and face, and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make it look less messy. Suddenly, she remembered Snape had given her his cloak, and she retrieved it from the cubicle. She draped it around herself after she had configured it so that it was slightly shorter in length and didn't drag on the floor.

It would have to do for now. She was so grateful she had it; she couldn't well go out into the Castle wearing yesterday's clothes. And she had to leave the toilet some time. She couldn't avoid everyone forever, no matter how much she wanted to.

With a deep breath, she walked through the corridoors, the smell of pumpkin soup wafting through air: it was Sunday so brunch was being served in the Great Hall. Hermione's stomach rumbled and she remembered that she hadn't eaten for a while.

But eating meant she would have to face practically _everyone_ in the Great Hall. But it didn't matter. She felt strong with Snape's cloak around him. Maybe she would even see him again. Maybe the school had forgotten about the drama of yesterday and moved on to new gossip.

But she was so very wrong.

As soon as she stepped through the oak doors - as soon as her eyes set on the floating candles, on the four long tables whose occupants gradually fell silent as friends shoved one another and pointed at Hermione, as soon as she stood there, not one foot across the threshold with the whole of Hogwarts waiting with baited breaths for her next move - the full weight of the consequences of the previous day came crashing down on her like a tonne of bricks. Ron finding the note that told the whole world her and Harry had kissed; Ginny finding out her best friend had been messing around with her one true love; the fight that had put a best friend in hospital – _all because of me._

Hermione gulped. The weight of these memories was almost too much to bear and she felt like collapsing under the pressure. But then again, Hermione Jane Grange hadn't made it this far in life by caring much of what others thought of her. In a moment of divine intervention, she recalled what Snape had whispered so defiantly to her … _you don't need anyone to tell you how beautiful you are_.. Armed with these words, she walked down the aisle separating the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table, holding her head high.

A ripple of whispers, however, broke out in the wake of her clattering steps.

As she underwent what felt like a wedding and funeral march all at the same time, she realised there was another reason why everyone was staring at her open-mouthed: Hermione who had never so much as come to breakfast with a hair out of place, Hermione who had tutted anyone with so much as an untucked shirt – this very same Hermione was walking into the Great Hall, looking like a mess.

Unfortunately all attempts at finding a seat and putting an end to this march of shame was thwarted, her fellow Gryffindors suddenly avoiding all eye contact and shuffling along the wooden bench to fill any gaps. Through the scandalized whispers, which was gradually filling the hall, a wolf-whistle broke out.

'Hey Hermione, you can come and sit on my knee? Get it? Her-My-knee!' Such wit was only worthy of the Slytherins whose table howled with laughter. Hermione, still feeling Snape's presence wrapped around her like a protective cloak, fought back the lump forming in her throat and strode on. The fear, however, that she might walk right to the end of the table and still not find a seat grew larger and larger.

But she did find a seat, right at the end of the table, next to the one Gryffindor who wasn't ignoring her: Harry Potter.

He was sitting right at the edge, a space for three more people to his left. Either the others were keeping their distance or he was keeping his from them. Either way, there was no chance Hermione was about to sit next to him, not after the way he had treated her.

But then again, she hadn't just walked through all those daggers to not at least drink some pumpkin juice. Besides, Harry should be the one who should move.

Resolutely trying not to give a damn about how this might look to everyone and how sitting next to her partner in crime would only fuel their gossip even more, she stepped over the bench in two quick movements and placed herself firmly on the seat.

 _I have a right to be here._ She reminded herself as the Gryffindors, who were already a few feet away, moved along further.

Hermione's plan of action was to ignore Harry completely.

She looked longingly at the Professors' table but Snape wasn't there. As her eyes swept the hall searching for him, her eyes fell on Malfoy who was staring at her. He suddenly started hugging himself and French kissing the air, his friends either side of him banging their fists on the table with roaring laughter. The full weight of what was happening around her finally hit her –that one personal note, the contents of which had been repeated and distorted to unimaginable incarnations since the day it was revealed, had instantly reversed her reputation from Golden Gryffindor to Hogwarts's Whore…

Hermione took a gulp of her pumpkin juice and began filling her plate as if this were any other normal mealtime, as if this were any other day and she had her usual library sessions planned ahead of her.

Yes, she was absolutely, positively fine. Everything was fine.

She heard Harry sigh beside her. 'Hermione, look, I – I'm sorry.'

But on hearing Harry's words she forcefully pierced the eggs on her plate and snapped her head towards him.

'Whatever for, Harry? For the fact that, in typical misogynistic fashion, the whole school thinks I'm a slut yet you and Ron have somehow been made out to be these two noble heroes, or for the fact that you treated me like shit yesterday?'

The blood drained from Harry's face, yet he didn't cower from her glaring stare. He held his gaze evenly.

'All of the above. I'm really sorry. I know I acted like an idiot.'

She scoffed. 'The word "understatement" is even an understatement.'

'Ok fine, more than an idiot, like a first class prick.'

Hermione resumed eating. As far as she was concerned Harry had hit the nail on the head and the conversation was over. But she could still feel Harry's eyes on her. She shoved some toast into her mouth. Harry was still staring. She poured pumpkin juice down her throat. Harry still stared.

She stabbed some mushrooms with her fork and, without looking towards him and with her knuckles white from her hard grip, she whispered as lowly as she could, 'could you stop gawking at me like I'm a Death Eater - unlike everyone else who has come here to see the one-man show starring Hermione Granger, _I_ have come here to eat.'

But as her hands began to shake with emotion, she couldn't even do that. The hall's reaction had jangled her nerves beyond her control. And, to top it off, Harry was still fucking staring at her. All at once, everything became too much and she rammed her cutlery into her plate with a dramatic, metallic clatter and stood up, the wood of the bench scraping roughly against the back of her leg.

Gathering her oversized cloak, she freed herself from the table and walked back towards the exit with enough haste so that the four tables streaked past her in a blur, saving her from the sight of people's scandalized faces, but, she was sure, not from their newly sparked gossip which would eventually find her in a few hour's time.

As soon as her foot crossed the threshold of the entrance, she broke out into a full run hoping to put as much distance between her and the stupidly judgmental Hall as possible. But it wasn't long before a hand grabbed her shoulder.

She turned around. Her heart skipped two erratic beats as she thought it was Snape. But, of course, it was Harry.

A wave of resignation settled over her making her eyelids droop as she realized she couldn't escape from his grip.

'Leave me alone, Harry,' she pleaded, 'if McGonagall sees us -'

'- screw McGonagall. You think I give a fuck what she or anyone else thinks?'

Those emerald eyes of his pierced her with an electric intensity that made her skin tingle.

'Please, I can't do this right now, I've had a rough night-'

'-whose cloak is that?' Harry wasted no time in cutting to the chase.

She sighed in irritation. 'What do you want, Harry?'

'I heard you didn't return to Gryffindor tower last night. Please, just tell me who you were with- '

'- _I wasn't with_ _anyone._ '

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. 'If you must know, I spent the night in the toilet, ask Moaning Myrtle if you don't believe me.'

Harry looked crestfallen.

'Why?'

'Why do you think?'

Because of Ginny, of course.

'I wish you would've come to me. I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have pushed you away.'

Feeling completely unworthy of his concern, she let her head fell to her chest as tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. Hoping to physically force them back, she placed her hand over her eyes. If he knew who she was with last night, if he knew about her secret desires, if he knew about her scars… he would think she was disgusting.

'Did you…' Harry began again quietly, 'did you – did you see _him_ last night?' his voice was slightly higher than usual.

Now the tears really began to fall.

'I know it's none of my business,' he began again gently. 'But you're my best friend. I just don't want to see you get hurt.'

An onslaught of sobs convulsed her body as the desperate wish to confess everything overcame her. She was so confused. Why did she want Snape so badly?

'Hey, it's ok,' Harry whispered as he hugged her.

Hermione's body became rigid; she was sure she didn't deserve his kindness.

'Whatever is happening, it's ok, I'm here for you,' he whispered, massaging her back. As she began to cry more freely, she allowed the side of her head to rest against his chest. It felt so good just to be held.

But then, through the blur of her tears, she saw a streak of auburn hair coming towards them from the hall.

Hermione gulped down a wave of sobs and pushed Harry away, staring as if in shock at Ginny who was drawing closer and closer.

Harry's eyes followed Hermione's gaze and he turned to see what had distracted her.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' was all she said before she untangled herself from his arms disappeared.

A confrontation with Ginny was more than she could handle right now.

She ran to her dorm, hoping to get a chance to gather her things and shower before Ginny came back.

Her nerves were mixed-up, and she couldn't make sense of any of it. Harry was the kindest person she had ever met. But that was just it. He was interested in her only because of his over-enthusiastic, misplaced sense of heroism. Classic Harry. It was nothing to do with her. He wasn't attracted to her. She was sure of it.

Placing Snape's cloak on her bed as she undressed, a flutter of hope dared to spread through her: she would have to return the cloak - _she would have to see him again._

The scalding hot water of the shower made her forget everything, everything apart from Snape's dark, smouldering stare...

Snape was wrong, she wasn't innocent.

And she was going to do everything in her power to prove it to him...

* * *

 **Your reviews absolutely do not fill me with inspiration/hope/motivation.**

 ***second attempt at reverse psychology***


	20. A Broken Heart

**Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following, and faving! Here's the next episode...**

* * *

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
 _the warning history shows,_  
 _for our Hogwarts is in danger_  
 _from external, deadly foes_

 _And we must unite inside her_  
 _or we'll crumble from within_  
 _I have told you, I have warned you..._  
 _let the Sorting now begin._

 **-The Sorting Hat Song, The Order of the Phoenix**

* * *

Did he even remember at all what had nearly happened between them? Was he thinking of her now? Did he think of her as often as she thought of him? Realising her thoughts were borderline obsessive and that she had actually finished her showering routine long ago, Hermione turned the taps off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping her towel around her body after wringing the excess water from her hair. She had used a new formula of shampoo which promised to make her locks smoother, sleeker and shinier. If it actually did, would Snape notice the difference?

While she was trying to work out the likelihood that he would, she opened the bathroom door and, still lost in thoughts of Snape and the effects of her new beauty regime, walked back into her dorm. Her bare feet had only taken a few damp steps on the Gryffindor carpet when they suddenly came to a shocked halt – it was Ginny.

The ex-best friend was standing there with her arms crossed, her expression turning from pure loathing to pure shock in the space of a nanosecond. Hermione realized that her towel was wrapped around her body only and thus fully exposing her arms. The makeup she had applied had worn off long ago and her scars from Sectumsempra were on full display in all their red, angry glory. On seeing the horror in Ginny's eyes, Hermione's mind worked furiously to weigh up what would be the wisest next possible step – should she turn round, take off her towel and wrap it round her shoulders and arms? Should she run away? Should she use a stunning spell? A memory reversal charm? Hermione considered all these options in the split second before she realized it was simply too late. Ginny's, round, horrified eyes had taken in every inch of Hermione's scar-crossed arms and it felt like no spell could fully diminish her terror.

'Ginny - I-I can-'

'Don't-just- don't. Please.' She brought her hands to her head and closed her eyes as if hoping the image before her would go away. But she opened them to find it was as present as ever. She took a few deep breaths to control her breathing.

'Just - give me a minute.' Ginny turned round and after what felt like to the most agonizing few minutes of their friendship, she turned back to face Hermione but this time her expression was even more pained.

'I don't know what's going on, and I don't know what you're going through-'

'-Ginny, please-'

'-just let me finish – just let me say what I need to say.' She took another deep breath, 'I don't know what's going on with you,' she began in what felt like a strained, even tone, 'but whatever it is, I can't be there for you. I-I just can't.'

At that moment Hermione suddenly felt the full consequences of her actions. She realized Ginny wanted to desperately help her but she was so angry at her, hated what her supposed best-friend had done so much that she just couldn't. Had Hermione lost her forever?

'Of course… I understand compl-'

'DON'T' Ginny hissed, ' _don't you dare make out like you're the victim here._ ' Hermione watched helplessly as Ginny's face collapsed under the strain of unshed tears. After a few moments of recollecting herself, she began again in a detached, almost professional tone, 'anyway, I came to find you because McGonagall told me I had to find you and take you to her immediately.'

Hermione gulped. What did McGonagall want with her again?

'Oh, ok, I'll just get dressed…'

'I was told I had to escort you.' Ginny said bitterly.

As if disgusted by the very thought of this, Ginny huffed and sat on the bed.

'Ginny-' Hermione began hesitantly, 'would you mind if you didn't tell-' she desperately wanted to say "Harry" but at that moment Hermione sensed Ginny had forbidden her to ever say his name in her presence.

'-if you didn't tell - anyone about…this…?'

'Fine.'

'And – and for what it's worth - I'm truly sorry.' Ginny didn't look up, but Hermione saw her complexion turn nearly the same shade as her hair, and decided best to not say anything more.

Hermione got dressed quickly and put her wet hair up in a bun.

She and Ginny walked silently through the corridors with Ginny taking a particularly brisk pace and Hermione letting her walk a few paces ahead to give them both a bit of breathing space. Still, she couldn't help feeling that there was something she needed to say, that it was her responsibility to break the ice.

'Is Ron – '

'-he's still in the hospital wing.' Ginny said curtly without looking back.

'Do you know when –'

'-tonight. He should be out by tonight.' Hermione let out a breath which she felt she had been holding ever since the fight between Harry and Ron. As they approached McGonagall's office, Hermione couldn't help wonder whether somehow, even though she wasn't physically present at the fight, Ginny blamed her for Ron's injuries.

As if waiting for them, McGonagall opened the door before they even had a chance to knock and Ginny took it as her queue to leave.

'Not so fast, Miss Weasley,'McGonagall's voice was firm. No arguments.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

'I would like to have a word with the both of you.'

Hermione sighed in frustration. McGonagall was only adding to the list of reasons why Ginny should hate her. They went in and sat down, the pile of marking on McGongall's desk sent a wave of guilt through Hermione: she hadn't studied or done a piece of homework in what felt like weeks.

'Miss Granger, please explain to Miss Weasley where you were last night.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'Why?' she asked before she could stop herself.

'Very well, Miss Granger, since you need me to spell it out for you: you were not in your dorm last night, and Miss Weasley, in light of recent events, would have great reason to believe you were with Mr Potter.'

Hermione blushed a deep shade of crimson.

'I-I was in the toilet,' she said in a quiet voice, utterly upset that McGonagall thought that humiliating her was a good idea.

Ginny remained silent, looking resolutely at the desk in front of her.

McGonagall sighed.

'Look, girls, I've been a teacher here long enough to have seen many female friendships destroyed by silly crushes.'

Hermione couldn't believe it: she was actually calling what she and Harry had a silly crush!

'I'd hate to see that happen to you both, especially in these times, when the Sorting Hat in particular has warned us about uniting.'

'Professor-' Hermione began, but she cut her off.

'Now, please, I need you to tell Ginny, why you were with Harry in the first place.'

Hermione looked at McGonagall.

'I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know what you want me to say.' She was genuinely shocked and at a loss for words. What on earth was she meant to answer? Hormones? The law of attraction?

McGonagall took off her glasses.

'Please, Miss Granger, too much is at stake. Just explain how much you're hurting from Mr Weasley's actions…'

Hermione's heart started thudding loudly, Ginny was looking anywhere but at her, her cheeks flushed with red.

Wasn't it enough Ron had humiliated her once before? Now she had to suffer again? She had to say that everything she did was because of him? That she went after Harry in order to get over him? That she had forced Harry? That Harry had only felt sorry for her?

'So basically, you want me to say I threw myself at Harry to get revenge on Ron?'

Wasn't that the picture they were trying to paint? That this was all her fault and not Harry's? That Ginny should forgive Harry? For the Greater Good?

McGonagall closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

'No. What I'm trying to do is speed up the process of recovery between you and your best friend. We do not have time for these types of fights to be causing a divide between us.'

McGonagall opened her unspectacled eyes, and Hermione could see all the fine wrinkles that surrounded them.

'Hermione,' McGonagall began softly, 'please explain to Ginerva, that your actions were the result of a broken heart.'

The Professor's words were like a hot knife that seared through her, threatening to cleave her very existence in half. One part of her wanted to admit it was true, the other part wanted to scream at the injustice of reducing everything she had been through to just three words: a broken heart.

Hermione looked at Ginny, who was still silent, but whose hands were tightly bunched up.

'I am not,' she began quietly but firmly, 'an extension of Harry's or Ron's life. I am my own person. I can make my own decisions.'

But as Hermione said the words, she knew they weren't true. All this time, everything she had done was purely for either Ron, Harry, or Snape.

Shaking, Hermione stood up, and almost immediately, so did McGonagall.

'You know that's not what I'm implying,' Hermione had never seen McGongall's face so strained. 'I wish you had the time to go through all the emotions that you are- they're a part of growing up. But you don't. You just don't. If you know the path of the Light is the way, you know there isn't any time.'

McGonagall's words made Hermione feel almost paralysed. If what she said was true, she wasn't on the side of the Light at all. She wanted to act on every desire and emotion she had. She couldn't give a toss about the Greater Good.

And then she realized it.

All she wanted was Snape.

The only thing that was stopping her was some misplaced sense of morality. That their relationship was wrong. That maybe Harry and Ron were right all along: Snape was evil.

But now none of that mattered anymore. No one was on her side, why should she be on anyone else's?

If she couldn't have Harry, she would have Snape.

She needed him. She would go crazy without _someone._

'Are you ok?' McGonagall asked with concern. Hermione had been silent for a long time as she worked through her feelings. Ginny, for the first time looked at her too.

'Thank you all for your concern. But I'm truly fine.' With that she quickly left, McGonagall's disappointed sigh echoing in her ears as she walked furiously to her dorm.

She wouldn't have much time before Ginny came back, so she had to do what she needed as quickly as possible. She grabbed all of her makeup and put it on as fast as she could. Normally, she would've loved to agonise over which dress to wear, but since she didn't have time, she picked the dress that she knew made her look sexy.

Yes: sexy.

There was no denying it any longer. That's how she wanted to look like.

With a few frantic spritzes of perfume and a spell to dry her hair, she grabbed a pair of high heels and put on Snape's cloak, fastening the tie at the top.

With her heels in her hands, she ran to the place she knew he would still be: his office.

Outside his door, she put her shoes on, smoothed down her hair, and, with one deep breath, she knocked…

* * *

 **As they say on Youtube: "smash" that review button!**

 **I'll get my coat.**


	21. For Her Own Good

**Thanks so much for the continued support and letting me know what you think!**

 **Warning : abuse, violence, sexual assault, rape triggers!**

* * *

 _Twisting and turning_  
 _Your feelings are burning_  
 _You're breaking the girl_

\- Breaking the Girl by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers

* * *

It was Sunday and Snape still hadn't left his office. He didn't know what he was still doing there. His legs, spread out wide as he sat on the edge of his desk, tapped impatiently whilst hid fingers drummed on the desk. He had sobered up long ago – without the help of a pepper-up potion; he needed to feel the pain of a hangover to remember never to turn to alcohol again. But still, he couldn't bring himself to leave his office.

And now, when he heard the knock on his door, he knew why.

He was still waiting for her.

'Come in,' he said, his voice hoarse.

On seeing her, his widespread legs stopped tapping, and his right eyebrow raised to the top of his forehead - she was wearing his cloak and a pair of impossibly long heels.

Slowly, she closed the door behind her and, without breaking his stare, undid her – no _his_ \- cloak and let it fall to the floor.

Snape gulped, his throat suddenly becoming dry.

Her accentuated legs in those high heels, her short black dress which hugged her body like a glove, and her narrowed, cat-like eyes, all meant one thing: she was wielding her femininity like a weapon…and Snape was under attack...

His mouth was slightly open, but he didn't have the power of concentration to close it.

'Hermione…' he whispered instead to warn her not to come any closer. But it was too late. She walked over to him until she was positioned between his legs.

'Professor…' He shivered as the word silkily glided off her red lips.

After having witnessed two of them in his lifetime, it was only now that Severus Snape understood the true meaning of war. But he could neither fight back nor surrender – he couldn't _do_ anything –she merely ran her hands down his shirt until she reached his waist. Snape didn't stop her and his half-cast eyes never left hers.

She evidently took his lack of rejection as an invitation to move closer; she was so close he could feel the heat radiating off her. Snape felt his body completely disobey him as his heart pounded intensely and his breaths became dizzyingly fast.

Of their own accord, his hands eagerly grabbed her waist, her buttocks, her thighs –everywhere he could. With her frenzied breaths matching his, the girl moaned and rubbed against his body, her thigh rubbing against his most sensitive area.

It was then she felt it.

She felt his erection.

She stopped and pulled away from him, her chest still rising and falling fast, her eyes glittering dangerously.

There was no way of hiding his desire for her now.

Slowly and breathlessly, she bent down onto her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. He couldn't look away from her even if he tried. He had said she was too innocent. Ever the brave Gryffindor, she had risen to the challenge to prove him wrong.

And boy, had things risen.

With shaking hands, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his now taught zip.

Before her fingers ventured to unveil what was beneath, the girl took a deep breath and shot him a nervous glance.

It was that look which stirred something in Snape beyond his immediate arousal.

And, with a confused mixture of frustration and certitude, he caught her shaking hands before they did anything that would later be cause for regret.

She made to move but that only made him grip her wrists tighter.

Snape looked at her dead on.

'Are you sure you want to do this?'

…

Hermione tried to calm her beating heart.

They had been here too many times before. She wouldn't let him stop her. Not now.

'How many more times – yes.'

'Are you sure?'

' _Yes_.'

She made to move her hands again, but his grip was still iron tight.

'Fine,' he said dangerously. And in one sudden movement the reins of control were torn out of Hermione's grasp as he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up, only to carry her to be pushed roughly against the wall. Hermione wanted to protest at this turn of events, particularly since the force he used had hurt her and her feet were barely touching the ground– but all such thoughts swiftly melted into oblivion as he swept her hair away and his lips met her neck. He loosened the straps of her dress to fall around her shoulders as kisses travelled all along the expanse of her exposed shoulder and chest.

Delicious vibrations echoed all through her body as she abandoned herself to his caresses, closing her eyes so that all she could hear was his breath become heavier and faster completely in sync with hers. When he finally stopped and in the dizzying heat brought his face up to hers, she was sure her butterfly-filled chest would explode if he didn't kiss her there and then.

But then everything changed.

Suddenly, his fingers started to rake her body, groping and grabbing her stomach, her buttocks, her thighs however they pleased and with none of the gentleness of before.

'You still want to do this?' he whispered dangerously as he pressed himself hard against her, painfully crushing her hips between himself and the hard wall behind her.

'You want to do this with me?' he whispered again as he returned to kissing her neck, his tongue paving the most intoxicating path of pleasure before his teeth bit at her skin. As she gasped and twisted beneath him, he grabbed her waist so hard she was certain he had left a bruise.

'You want to do this with a man who'll fuck you hard,' he bit into her neck again, this time much more sharply, 'who'll leave you without giving you a second thought?' with another vicious bite, the pain shot through her eyes without any of the pleasure of before.

'Do you?'

' _Yes_ …'

' _Do you?_ ' he hissed and when his teeth met her again, he tore her skin and drew blood. A body-shaking scream left her lips as white hot pain seared through her body.

' _A_ _nswer me!'_ he hissed again as he pressed her impossibly, suffocatingly further into the wall

With her vision blurred by uncontrollable, silent tears, she gradually shook her head.

After he lifted his heavy frame off her, air rushed into her lungs, and, trembling from head to toe, her knees gave way causing her to collapse onto the floor. Her body felt instantly cold without him; her neck, however, felt as if it had been set on fire.

As she heard the door slam, she realized he was gone.

Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from gasping for air; the pain – physical and emotional – was simply too much.

After what felt like an eternity, her body calmed down and she forced herself to stand up and leave his office.

Not knowing where to go, she walked with vacant eyes through Hogwarts grounds, the darkness of night having descended long ago.

The further she walked into the night, the further she buried the event in the depths of her subconscious. She wouldn't replay the scene in her mind nor analyse it to death to see where it had all gone wrong - whether it was her fault or at least work out _why_ he had treated her like that - no. She was going to silence what had happened until it suffocated out of existence.

The autumn air froze her bare legs, arms, face and raw neck until the biting cold penetrated her skin and touched her bones. Her physical numbness lessened the sting of past memories which began to resurface as she walked through her home of almost seven years. She remembered how her, Harry, and Ron had once huddled together under the invisibility cloak, working as one as they tried to reach Hagrid's hut, Hermione all the while casting a silent spell to remove their footprints in the snow. And as she passed the lake, she tried hard not to remember all those sunshine-filled afternoons they'd spent revising for exams at its edge. What had happened to their friendship? All those jokes, laughs and arguments they had shared – where were they now?

The urge to throw herself into the lake's now grey and black depths was almost impossible to fight.

McGonagall was right. But she had been too overcome with lust to hear her warning. But it was too late now. Despite the pain in her neck, her whole body was on fire in a way she had never experienced before. She needed something desperately to release the energy which had been awakened inside her. She had to do something. But she didn't know what. All she knew was that she would go crazy if she didn't do something.

On the other hand, all she wanted to do was forget everything, everything that had happened.

Instead, Hermione walked to Hagrid's hut, hoping that his light might be on. But the light wasn't on, not even one exotic animal was tethered in his back yard. Suddenly she felt the dull, frozen ache of her feet from her high-heeled shoes, but it didn't matter; she knew she needed to keep walking.

With nowhere else to go, she turned to the Forbidden Forest, daring the creatures of the night to find her and take her away. But her heels merely sank silently into the earth until she walked so far that she could barely see.

Eventually she found her way out and returned to the main grounds, not caring what time it was and whether it was past curfew or not. And when the warmth of Hogwart's castle had finally wrapped around her and had brought colour back into her cheeks, she somehow found herself on the landing of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

* * *

His mother's cries still screeched in Snape's ears like a nail dragged across the murky blackboard of his memory.

 _It was for her own good._

Passing him on the stairs, that's what his father would tell him - _it was for her own good. Her own good._ Snape Senior wouldn't look at his son as he said it. In fact the only time he acknowledged his son's presence directly was when he raised a hand to him, which happened more and more often during the days leading up to his departure to Hogwarts. But not nearly as often as it happened to his mother. And when he heard his father's footsteps recede up the stairs and the bedroom door click calmly shut, Snape still wouldn't go downstairs to see his mother. Because even then, as the adult Snape would reason in his darkest hours, even then he was a coward. He would just sit and grip the railings until the skin of his white, teenage knuckles would split. Only in the morning, when everything was eerily cheery - his father reading the paper, his mother making breakfast - would he see her cut lip frozen into a smile that didn't, couldn't' travel up her cheeks to meet her blackened eyes. And his father would read the paper in silence, looking at no one, his eyes hardly moving across its pages making Snape wonder whether he was really reading the paper at all or whether he was perhaps thinking, doubting and regretting last night's events –but in the end his father's upright, proud presence confirmed to all that what he had done had undeniably been _for her own good_.

And now, decades of paternal hatred later, Snape was telling himself the same thing: what he had done to Hermione _had been_ _for her own good._

He had wanted to punish Hermione for falling for a man as flawed and dangerous as him and for being seduced by the Dark Arts as naïvely and irrevocably as he had been. But above all, he wanted to protect her, to make her see that she deserved something better than him. Though in the end, all he had actually achieved was to turn into the one thing he swore he never would: his father.

Snape was unraveling, his mind spinning out of control. All he could hear was his father's voice say those words over and over, all he could see was the blue of his mother's bruises, the red of Hermione's blood and all he could feel was a shaking in his veins, a shaking which told him that he was losing control not only of his emotions, thoughts, and actions, but of his magic too.

He was no longer in control of his senses or mind. He couldn't be a spy anymore. It was time to do the thing he had been putting off for over a year.

He had told Draco to wait until the right time. Draco, deep down, was unwilling to go through with the task of murdering the Headmaster, the most powerful Wizard of their time. But tonight would be the night. Finally, he would leave Hogwarts.

And he was going to leave with style, if that's what you could call it.

Snape pulled his unwashed body of two days together and stood up, rubbing his eyes and massaging his stubble. He would shower after he had seen Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was at his Pensieve and he didn't look up when Snape arrived.

'Hello, Severus.'

'Albus. Tonight. It will happen tonight.'

'Perfect timing.' He replied calmly. 'I have some urgent business to attend to tonight, but I will definitely be back to see the show.'

He put the Pensieve away in a maddeningly calm manner.

'Albus, do you understand _I will kill you tonight._ '

'I understand perfectly, Severus.' He picked up his wand materialized a ghostly Patronus. 'I have sent a message to McGonagall to round up the Order.'

Suddenly the reality of what he was going to do hit him. Tomorrow, the man standing so eerily calm before him, would no longer be here.

'It doesn't have to be tonight.'

'Severus, you've been putting it off for months now. Besides, we've discussed all future plans in great detail. And, since our conversation yesterday, we've said everything that needs to be said.'

He was referring to the girl. Dumbledore was a smart man. There was no doubting that. Soon, he would also be a dead man.

'Have you had any food, Severus? Perhaps a shower and a good brew of muggle coffee might do you some good.'

Are those the final words he was going to tell him? To eat and shower and take drugged up muggle drinks?

Snape ran a tense hand through his hair. He hadn't washed it in so long, the grease had become matted.

But Dumbledore was right. Today was the day. He would tell Draco that tonight is the night. For the girl. It was for her own good.

* * *

 **The end is near!**

 **As always please let me know what you think!**


	22. The Second Fight

With her hair swept over to hide the marked side of her neck, she went up to Harry's dorm. He was there, all alone.

She couldn't be rejected again. Someone had to want her.

Harry was lying on his bed, repeatedly throwing a snitch in the air and catching it, but when he saw Hermione, he forgot all about the winged ball and it flew away as he sat up. His mouth was open but he didn't say a thing.

'Where is everyone?' she asked, her voice having almost disappeared after her onslaught of tears.

Harry stared at her a while longer before replying. 'Dean and Seamus have gone home for the weekend.' The question about Ron's presence awkwardly hung between them- their best-friend was still in the hospital wing.

'Perks of being a seventh year,' Harry offered with only a hint of a smile.

Hermione stood still in the threshold.

'Seventh year doesn't feel very perky to me.'

The silence between them again became loaded with unanswered questions.

'Where've you been?' Harry asked finally, his tone no longer light.

'Out.'

'I can see that…' His eyes were totally fixed on hers and Hermione could tell how hard he was fighting the urge to look at the rest of her body. Slowly, she walked into the room and made to sit on the outer edge of his bed.

'My feet hurt,' she whispered.

'You came all this way to tell me that?'

She didn't have a reply. She wanted to tell him that there was so much more that was hurting, but she just didn't know how.

'So... you want a massage…?' His eyebrows were raised and his tone sarcastic but as he moved closer it was clear he was completely serious. Slowly, he bent down to ever so gently lift her bare feet from out of her shoes. Hermione closed her eyes at the contact, his soft touch reminding her how rough and brutal Snape's had been… But she didn't want to remember him and what he'd done; she wanted to forget so, so badly…

Harry's broomstick-calloused fingers ran along the arch of her foot as his thumbs applied a heavenly, circular pressure. Hermione leant back and released a sigh of pleasure only to pull away abruptly moments later, as if realizing how much she was enjoying herself.

Harry looked up. 'What's wrong?'

The tears that she had silenced before threatened to spill over again. But she wouldn't let them run their torrential course because she was sure, if she did, they would destroy even the few pieces left inside her which were still together.

'I shouldn't be here.' she began in a trembling voice, 'McGonagall warned me to stay away. And she was right.' Tears that Hermione desperately tried to hold back spilled silently on her cheeks.

Piercing her with those famous emerald eyes, he gently let go of her feet and drew level with her. Hermione broke his gaze. She couldn't bear his kindness. She didn't deserve it. If he knew who she had feelings for…

'Who were you with?' he whispered, as he wiped her tears away with his thumb. Their faces were so close, they were almost touching.

'It doesn't matter…' she said her body convulsing with more sobs at the thought of what had happened.

As if being so physically close made them share thoughts, Harry swept away her hair which had been covering her damaged neck.

On seeing the marks, he pulled away to look at her dead on, a cold rage in his eyes.

'He did this to you?'

Hermione swiftly withdrew, sweeping her hair to cover her neck and crossing her arms defensively around her stomach.

'Did he do this to you?' he asked more urgently.

'It's not like that...' She closed her eyes, willing her tears to stop.

'Then what is it like?' alarm shot through his voice.

Yes, Snape had abused her. But she was sure it was out of kindness. He didn't want to take advantage of her. And Hermione hated herself for thinking it – but she still wanted him.

'It's like…I…It's like…' With panic rising through her at the lack of possible explanations, she drew closer to him.

'Please, Harry, I just want to forget about him.' Harry's expression softened.

'Come here,' he whispered as he embraced her in a hug.

No longer able to hold back, Hermione cried freely into his shoulder. After a while, her sobs quieted down, but she didn't pull away, and Harry didn't let her go. Harry rubbed her back and Hermione couldn't help but tense up as she remembered Snape's rough touch, his fingers painfully raking her body and digging into her flesh.

Sensing her tension, Harry broke away.

'What's wrong?'

She had to tell him. She had to talk to someone.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke out.

Harry still intently staring at her, his eyebrows knitted in concern, didn't seem to notice.

'Harry, did you hear the noise?'

It broke out again and this time the thudding noise made them both jump. It was followed by raucous laughter, emanating from the staircase.

'Probably just a couple of sixth year drunks. Wait here…' whispered Harry and he made his way to the staircase.

After a few minutes, he came back. 'Nothing there, false alarm.' He got back on the bed, staring with intently at her. 'Look, this has gone on long enough. You need to tell me what's going on.'

Panic started to rise within her. All Hermione could feel was Snape's forceful hands on her waist, his mouth on her neck - all she could see was Snape who was about to roughly handle her body, who would tear at her clothes and who would eventually make her bleed.

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

At that moment Snape's voice entered her head.

 _You want to do this with a man who'll fuck you hard, who'll leave you without giving you a second thought?_

The sad, pathetic truth was she did. Even after what had just happened. She wanted him desperately.

'Hermione?' Harry's voice cut into her thoughts making her suddenly stand up.

'I have to go.'

 _'You need to tell me what's going on_.'

'Please, don't make this any harder-'

'For fuck's sake, Hermione, you think I like watching this scumbag hurt you?'

'He's not a – look, it doesn't matter, I shouldn't be here, I have to go.'

'Where? Where are you going to go?'

'I-'

'-to him?'

Hermione fell silent. The truth was she didn't know where she was going.

'For fuck's sake - are you fucking serious?'

'Harry, please –'

'-you know what? Fine. Whatever. Go. See if I care.' Harry looked away, grabbing the Snitch which was hovering unusually still in the air, as if mesmerized by the spectacle.

Hermione wanted to say she was sorry, yet she knew it wouldn't be enough. It was wrong of her to have run back to Harry when all she wanted was Snape. If that made her Dark, if that made her tainted, if that made her a slut. So be it.

All she knew now was that she had to leave before any more damage was done.

But little did she know, there was still a lot more damage to be done.

A heck of a lot more.

As she descended down the boys' staircase, she bumped into something solid.

'Ow, what the fu- Hermione?'

Hermione stood stock still, rooted to the spot.

That was Ron's voice.

After a swish, Ron's frame materialized from underneath that silvery invisibility cloak, his hair as red as ever, even in moonlight.

He was swaying, his eyes half-cast.

'You-' he began but was unable to finish his sentence as he stumbled forwards. Hermione caught him preventing him from tumbling down the stairs, her knees buckling under his weight.

'Are you drunk?' She whispered incredulously.

'No, fuck off,' he pushed her away and made to stand up but failed, collapsing into her arms again.

'Ron, I really think you should-'

'-shut the fuck up, who are you to tell me …' He suddenly took one look at her as if he'd seen her for the first time, his eyes taking in her disheveled hair, the marks on her neck…

'Whatta fuck you doing on our staircase?' his words may have been slurred but the anger was as clear as day.

This time, he regained his strength and roughly pushed her against the wall, her back pressed painfully into the banister.

Tears stung in her eyes, her back still sore from where Snape had bruised her a couple of hours ago. 'Ron, I can explain-'

'Explain what?' he grabbed her by the neck of her dress, 'that you and Harry have been fucking behind my back all along?'

'Please…Ron… I…can't…breathe-'

'I always knew you were jerking him off. He always denied it. I knew there was something going on. That's why you always took his side. You're a slut, you know that? a filthy, skanky -'

Suddenly, Ron froze. The tip of a thin wand was pressed firmly against his temple like a sharp needle.

'Let. Her. Go.'

It was Harry.

'Or what?'

Forget the wands, Harry went in with a right-hook punch. Ron staggered backwards, blood pouring from his mouth. After a bewildering moment of registering the sight of blood and working out whose it was, Ron went for it, pouncing on Harry with animalistic ferocity. Despite Hermione's pleas, the fight went on for a good few minutes before Harry had Ron's cheek against the stair floor with his arm twisted into a painful lock behind his back.

'Do you enjoy getting beaten up by me or something?'

'Harry, leave him, please...'

'You're a prick, Ron. If you ever touch her again… I'll kill you.'

He let Ron go, the trio barely noticing that a group of bleary-eyed boys in pajamas, had gathered at the lower landing, having been awakened by the commotion.

'What's going on?' it was Neville, 'you two aren't fighting again?'

'It's none of your business,' snapped Harry.

'Oh I think you'll find that it very much is, Mr Potter,' the stern voice coolly sliced through the heat of the night.

McGonagall appeared in full formal robes, a hat high upon her head, her as narrow as ever.

'Well? Would anyone care to tell me what all of this is about?'

No one said a thing.

'Please...Professor….' Hermione began, 'Harry was just defending me…'

'Are you suggesting, Miss Granger, that this much force and violence was actually necessary?'

Hermione looked at Ron, his face glued to the stairs with blood, his breathing hard and heavy. She gulped, fighting back the welling tears. 'Furthermore, Miss Granger,' she reproachfully eyed Hermione's disheveled appearance and threw a disgusted look at Harry's equally unkempt hair, 'would you care to explain your presence in the boy's dormitory?' Hermione cowered under her Professor's glare as she moved her hair to cover her neck, hoping against hope that it had been too dark for her Professor to notice the marks.

'Hermione didn't do anything wrong, it was Ron who attacked her.' Harry said bitterly.

'Thank you Mr Potter, I shall get the full story when Weasley has recovered. Longbottom please take Mr Weasley to the Hospital Wing. Everyone else back to bed, NOW!'

There was a reluctant shuffle, not without the few curious glances towards Harry and Hermione, before the rest of the Gryffindor boys disappeared to their rooms.

'You two, a word.'

The pair exchanged worried looks before they followed McGonagall to the empty and jarringly cheery Common Room.

'Mr Weasley has barely been out of the Hospital Wing for a few hours - the reason why he was in there in the first place, need I remind you, was due to the same actions you demonstrated tonight as you did a day ago. I cannot tell you how disappointed I am in the both of you.' Hermione resolutely looked at the floor, her throat constricting so hard she thought she would suffocate.

'You were warned that this is not the time for something so distracting and volatile, particularly after the meeting we just had today. Harry, I don't need to remind you that it's not just your life at stake here-'

'-I know, I know-' he said, closing his eyes in frustration, 'I'm supposed to be saving the whole world, like I could forget.'

McGonagall pursed her lips.

'Potter, I suggest you go back to your room and prepare yourself: you will be meeting the Headmaster in an hour's time in his office.'

Harry looked at Hermione, unwilling to leave her alone.

'Now, Potter,' McGonagall said sternly.

Harry sighed and finally looked away from his best friend. Reluctantly, he made his way back to his dorm.

Now alone, the silence between Hermione and her Head of House was defeaning. To escape the awkwardness, Hermione dismissed herself and made her way to the staircase leading to her room.

'I'm afraid, Miss Granger, you need to come with me,' McGongall said, almost sadly. 'We have an emergency meeting to attend.'

Hermione panicked. She was neither physically nor mentally prepared for a meeting right now - her eyes were red, her makeup was smeared and she was in high-heels and a short dress. What's more, there was only her strategically placed hair that separated her marked neck from the rest of the world.

'Can I have some time to freshen up?' she asked timidly.

For a minute Hermione feared McGonagall was going to look her up and down disgustedly. But she didn't. She just looked ahead, avoiding all eye contact with Hermione and sighed.

'We don't have time, just change your shoes. Here, let me.'

McGonagall tapped on Hermione's heels and they instantly became smaller.

'Thank you,' Hermione said, but McGonagall had already stood up to leave, the weight of her disappointment trailing heavily behind her.

A lump formed in Hermione's throat. She was so ashamed of herself. She had acted like a hormonal, teenage mess.

As they walked to McGonagall's office, Hermione felt more and more nervous. Would he be there?

'Professor, who will be at the meeting?'

'Everyone.'

'Everyone?' Panic rose through Hermione again as McGonagall nodded gravely. Something serious was happening if everyone from the order had come to Hogwarts. Hermione rubbed the her face with the palm of her hand, hoping to wipe away the smeared mascara. She touched her hair several times, paranoid that it wasn't covering the side of her neck. Her heart raced at a million miles per hour. But there was no use in pretending it was because of what was going to happen with the Order.

It was because she would be seeing _him_.

* * *

 **As always, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review - they mean so much to me! xxx**


	23. Blood and Parchment

**Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I've started a job (nothing exciting just in a shop) so I'm sorry my updates have slowed down. I would LOVE to hear what you think, whether that's immediately after I post, one day later, three days, three weeks, or three months (or even years!)**

 **Before I start singing the Friends theme song, here's the next instalment…**

* * *

 _I must not tell lies._ The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.

 _I must not tell lies._ Blood trickled down his wrist.

…

 _I must not tell lies._ The parchment was now shining with drops of blood from the back of his hand, which was searing with pain.

 ** _Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix_**

* * *

Hermione halted before she entered McGonagall's office. This was no ordinary meeting. She took a deep breath in order to gather her fragmented mind before she walked in: something big was about to happen in Hogwarts and she needed to concentrate.

But as she stepped into the room all attempts of calming her anxious thoughts and ever-beating heart shattered to pieces. Her eyes couldn't even take in the office surroundings: everyone and everything blurred into oblivion save for the dark, towering figure of Severus Snape.

As soon as his eyes met hers something shot through her which was beyond electricity, fire, or magic - something beyond any humanly designated label. The muscles that ran from the tops of her thighs to her knees became weak and she would've collapsed to the floor if Tonks hadn't hugged her and lead her into a seat.

If she looked at him she knew it would be the end of her.

But the problem was, _he_ wouldn't stop looking at _her_.

Even with her gaze downcast and focused solely on a point on the table in front of her, she could still _feel_ him looking at her: his intense gaze burned through her like a lit cigarette pressed on her skin.

Was he not scared that the others would notice that the Slytherin Prince was giving the "Golden" Gryffindor his undivided attention? That he was looking at her with such an intensity that he had practically created a force field around them?

Still refusing to raise her head, Hermione vowed to herself that she would never look at him again. Ever. No matter how badly she wanted to.

Careful to avoid Snape, Hermione quickly raised her head to shoot a glance at rest of the meeting's attendees: Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, the Weasleys (minus Ron). No Harry, no Dumbledore.

'Thank you all for coming at such short notice,' Professor Mcgonagall's voice sliced through her thoughts. 'As you are all aware by now there has been an inside plan within Hogwarts developing for the past year or so. Quite what the nature of it is, we have little idea but the precautions we have already set in place must be strictly adhered to.'

'Thank goodness,' piped Tonks, 'I thought something really serious had happened. But this is just a check-up slash de-brief meeting is it?' Tonks gave a smile to match her hopeful platinum gold hair.

'I'm afraid we haven't asked some of you to Portkey from the other side of the country for just a de-brief. Our source says that the plot developing within Hogwarts, will come to a head much, _much_ soonerthan we all thought or hoped _._ ' Cursed mutterings and a stray gasp arose from the gathering. 'Now, now. There's no need to panic. What we must remember is that…'

Hermione tried her best to concentrate, she really did, but in the end all she heard was McGonagall's words roll over head in an unintelligible waves of a thick Scottish accent. How could she concentrate when he was in the room? She quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped down the side of her eye. She couldn't afford to break down in front of everyone. but seeing him stare at her so unashamedly from the corner of her eye, made her feel so helpless and angry. Even in a room full of people he could still hurt her. The secret of their "relationship" together was suffocating her. No one knew what had happened between them apart from her and him. And even if she did tell someone, what would she say? Who would believe her? Hadn't they said that she had thrown herself at Harry? Wouldn't they say that she had done the same with Snape? That she was just a desperate Teacher's Pet eager to gain the approval of someone who would never give it?

In a twisted, selfish way, she was glad that whatever was about to happen in Hogwarts would happen soon. Maybe she could forget everything. Maybe she could forget him.

Hermione quickly looked up to confirm that even now, _he was still fucking staring at her._ She bit her lip hard and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. She was now concentrating so hard on the spot in front of her that the mahogany wood started turning a white-cream colour. The white dot grew and grew, and Hermione was sure she was hallucinating, but in front of her there was no a piece of parchment.

Shocked at what had appeared in front of her, Hermione couldn't help but look up at him. Finally, he was no longer looking at her but down at his lap.

Relived, Hermione closed her eyes. But when she opened them again she saw that the parchment was no longer white:

In a shiny red ink she was the following words on it:

 _I hope you're ok._

Hermione blinked. How could Harry have conjured parchment in front of her when he wasn't even in the room? This was some seriously advanced level of magic.

The writing continued:

 _I'm so sorry for everything._

Why was he apologizing?

 _For everything I've done to you._

And then she realized – that neat cursive writing was not Harry's – it was Snape's.

Hermione couldn't help be impressed by the silent spell Snape must have been using. But to her knowledge, there was no such spell: the only time you could silently write was when the surface was clearly within your reach. And the only time when she knew an inanimate object to write by itself was if a soul was inside it, like Ginny's diary in second year.

Snape went on:

 _Though I do not deserve your forgiveness, I will say it again: I, Severus Snape, am sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you physically and emotionally. I'm sorry for driving your friends away, I'm sorry for bruising you, for making you bleed._

Hermione blinked, trying hard to suppress the flurry of emotions his words were inciting in her. Still, she didn't understand – the only time when she had seen words transfer from one place to another was Umbridge's "special" quill: but that was from parchment to skin…

 _If I could take back everything, I would._

The copper taste of her bit lip was not only in her mouth, but she could smell it too. It was then she realized the red writing wasn't ink – it was blood.

 _It should go without saying, but I need to say it: No man should ever lay a finger on you._

Snape had reversed the charm on Umbridge's quill – instead of the writing going from parchment to skin, it was going from skin to parchment.

 _You deserve so much more than this._

Her heart started beating fast as panic was rising through with the very daunting realization: he was cutting the words onto his skin for them to appear on the parchment!

 _You deserve…_

'Stop.' She whispered, but the words kept on appearing-

… _so much more…_

'-Stop,' she said a little louder, a few heads turning her way-

… _than me…_

'STOP!' She shouted. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on her and the blood-stained parchment in front of her.

'You do realise that taking notes in an Order meeting is strictly forbidden?' McGonagall shouted shrilly.

Hermione was breathing hard. With the whole room waiting for her next move, she looked up at the one person she swore she would never look in the eye again: Snape.

His face was pale, his expression was blank, and his arms were tucked beneath the table. Where had he carved the words? On his arms? Thighs?

The whole thing made her feel sick.

'What exactly is important enough for you to call for a halt of this meeting?'

Hermione was at a loss for words.

'What on earth did you think was so important that you had to write it on a piece of parchment, parchment that could easily fall in the hands of the enemy?'

Snape stared back at her almost sadly, before Hermione tore her gaze away from him and faced McGonagall.

'Or,' Hermione began simply, the evenness of her tone at odds with her summersaulting insides, 'you could save the enemy the trouble and have a member of staff reveal its contents to the whole of Hogwarts instead.'

It was a direct jibe at Snape and what he had done to her and Harry's note, of course. Hermione flicked her eyes to him, and saw, to her surprise, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.

He wasn't scared in the slightest.

The reference wasn't lost on McGonagall who flared her nostrils indignantly. It was common knowledge by now Snape had given the note to Ron for the "Greater Good".

'Accio parchment.'

Horrified, Hermione watched as the blood-stained parchment flew to McGongall who folded it up and placed it inside her robe.

Hermione looked at Snape- he almost looked _pleased_.

On that parchment, written in his blood and with his full name, Snape had admitted everything.

Proof of what had happened was there in red and white. It was just a matter of time before everyone knew. It was no longer her heavy secret that she had to carry alone.

Was this his way of easing her pain?

McGonagall cleared her throat: 'We do not have any more time to waste. What I was trying to say is that…'

But the rest of the meeting passed in oblivion. Now that Hermione's eyes were on him, she couldn't look away and he didn't break their gaze either.

And, just like that, she had fallen for him all over again.

In that moment, staring in the depths of his black eyes, she realized the reason she was attracted to him in the first place: beneath all the layers of darkness and sarcasm, there lay a glimmer of a golden heart, patiently waiting for its time to shine…

* * *

 **But will it get a chance to?!**

 **So glad you've joined me down here! It would be great to hear your thoughts :)**


	24. Man or Boy

**Yay update! As always please review and let me know what you think :)**

* * *

Snape finally broke their intense gaze when he stood up along with everyone else: the meeting was adjourned. Hermione stayed seated, trying to process everything that had happened. Would McGonagall open the note soon or had she forgotten all about it given the events that were about to unfold?

In any case, had Snape scrambled the note? Or had he vanished the ink completely? She had no idea what would happen if everyone knew. Part of her felt relieved at the prospect that her story would be known but a bigger part of her knew she couldn't handle all the sympathy, advice, and judgment.

No, she wouldn't be able to handle it at all. The mere thought of everyone finding out made her stomach clench and the bile rise to her throat. Everything that had happened between her and Snape had to stay a secret.

She remained seated and lost in her thoughts like that until she realized that the room was slowly emptying and that if she didn't move soon, McGonagall would probably try to speak to her after she had finished her conversation with Tonks.

Hastily, Hermione got up and made her way out.

As she ran down the corridor, someone called out her name.

'Hermione, slow down!'

The unrecognizable yet familiar voice made her turn around.

'Don't make an old man run for you!' It was Lupin.

'You're not that old,' she said, more coldly than she intended. He was the same age as Snape.

'Nearly twice your age…' Hermione's face fell – he had worked it out, he had worked out she and Snape were involved! Sure McGonagall might find out soon enough. But now was too soon. She couldn't handle it now. She just couldn't.

Ready to defend herself, Hermione wanted to point out that she was actually nearly nineteen years old lest he was forgetting the whole time-turner-saving-Buckbeak year of her life.

But as he drew closer she saw the dark circles under his eyes, the scratches on his cheeks and the grey of his hair, and she suddenly lost the heart to.

Being a werewolf was definitely taking its toll on his body.

'How's Tonks?' She asked hoping to change the subject.

'She's good, you could've asked her yourself if you stuck around.' Again, Hermione fell silent.

'How are _you,_ Hermione?'

'I'm fine.'

'Really? What happened in the meeting?'

'Nothing…I was just - I'm just tired that's all.'

A loaded silence fell between them.

'Harry told me that things aren't going so smoothly here.'

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Trust Harry to tell Lupin everything. 'It's fine, it's just the usual teenage dramas, nothing for you to worry about.'

'Are you sure, because I watched you throughout the meeting and I've never seen you so distracted in my life.'

Hermione tried to bite back her irritation. 'You're right, but, you know what? It's seventh year, a war's going on and my best friend hates me – what do you expect?' her tone came out a lot more accusatory than she had planned.

'Sure, I understand, it's just I never realized that you and Harry-'

'-there's no "me and Harry."' So this is what it was about.

'Doesn't that kind of make it worse?'

' _Make what worse?_ ' She said, frustration seething through her every word making her grind her teeth. It took all of her self-control not to scream and shout out every last piece of anger she had at him. Instead, she spun on her heel furiously and walked away from him as fast as she possibly could.

'Hey,' Lupin shouted as he ran after her and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop before her arm was torn off.

She turned around, the grip on his arm still tight.

His face was so beset with concern, she instantly felt guilty for acting so rashly.

'I'm not about to give you a lecture. Harry's really worried about you and asked me to check up on you. And now I can see why.'

'There's no need to be worried about me.'

'I think there is. In fact, now I'm standing next to you, I know there is.'

Hermione's heart started beating faster.

'Wh- what do you mean?' she asked almost breathlessly.

'As a Werewolf, my animal senses are heightened even in my human form.'

Hermione's mouth and throat became completely dry.

'I can sense blood, even dried blood.'

Hermione turned crimson as for a spilt second she thought he could smell her period, but then she remembered she wasn't menstruating and her hand instantly flew to her neck. A move she wished she hadn't made because, even though her hair covered her marks, it instantly confirmed his suspicions.

'I saw the way Severus looked at you.'

Hermione's heart stopped completely before pounding painfully slow as it dropped to her stomach.

Was he really going to confront her here, in the middle of the corridor where everyone could hear?

'Whoever this guy is, he must be some piece of work, if even Severus is worried.'

Severus was worried? About what?

Oh, about the supposed Slytherin boy Harry thought she was seeing.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, her whole body shaking. Just like Harry, Lupin thought she was seeing some random Slytherin boy - not Snape.

'It's nothing I can't handle.' Her voice was barely a whisper; she had lost all ability to speak.

'Hermione,' Lupin began taking her hands in his, 'you might think this is love, but trust me it's just hormones. Something might seem attractive because it's forbidden or wrong. But that's just what it is. Wrong.'

Hermione looked away from him. She couldn't bear to face him or what he was saying.

He was right.

She had never felt so shaken, such a scattered mess in her whole entire life.

Just the very mention of Snape made her feel like she was going to die.

'Listen to me, do you remember the Boggart I brought in for your fifth year exam?'

Hermione nodded.

'Close your eyes for a moment and just imagine what it would show if you were standing in front of it right now.'

She did as she was told, trying hard not to sob at the thought of the happy days of their past.

'Let me guess, it's not McGonagall telling you you've failed your exams, is it?'

Hermione shook her head.

It was Snape.

Losing Snape, of him losing interest in her, of him not finding her attractive. That was her biggest fear.

A tear rolled down her eye.

So much had changed. She didn't care about grades or exams in the slightest anymore. Who was she?

'If you're biggest fear isn't losing the war or finding loved ones dead…I'm sorry, but I have to say you've got your priorities wrong. You've become confused.'

The tears now thickly and silently rolled down her face, and Lupin gently wiped them away with his fingers before embracing her in a hug.

Hermione exercised every fibre of her being not to sob. Eventually, they pulled apart.

'I have to go, but you take care of yourself, ok?

She nodded and watched him walk away.

And it was then she sensed it.

She sensed she wasn't alone.

'That looked extremely cosy,' a deep voice came from behind her sending tremors through her body.

It was him.

Hermione turned around to face her Professor, who was a good metre away from her. He looked almost naked without his usual cloak around him.

'The werewolf is right,' his sarcastic tone had dissolved into resignation. By the strain in his voice Hermione could tell how much it pained him to admit that. 'Just look at what I've done to you.'

He stood there as intimidatingly as ever, his stare unflinching, his eyes almost challenging her to defy him.

'McGonagall most likely won't look at the note tonight or tomorrow. Perhaps in a few days when the events of tonight have died down. And then everyone will know.'

He said the words simply, as if his whole reputation wasn't on the line.

'Why didn't you vanish the note?' she asked, her voice shaking.

'I want you to get your life back on track.'

Hermione's heart felt like it was about to burst. He cared about her. _He cared about her._

And in that moment she realized why she was still drawn to him, even after everything that he had done: she had to know he was good. If she knew there was light underneath his darkness, maybe, just maybe, there would be a hope that she could find some light in her own darkness.

Maybe she had turned to Sectumsempra hoping he would show her how to escape it, how to emerge from your darkest hour, how to fight on for the greater good, even though you feel like the love of your life was lost.

As Snape stood there with his smoldering stare, her eyes couldn't help travel down the length of his uncloaked body. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, his sleeves rolled up to reveal pale skin with raised, dark blue veins criss-crossing his arms.

Even though she knew he was watching her stare, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop.

Or maybe Lupin was right: it was all just hormones.

Whatever it was, she should have never allowed herself to run away with the fantasy of being with him in the first place. She should have never developed these ridiculous feelings.

It was now too late.

Her eyes finally met his again, a jolt of electricity passing through her as they did.

'If you haven't already, by tonight you will realise what kind of man I am once and for all. You need to forget about these past few months and focus on yourself.'

She needed him. She needed him to hold her without hurting her. Just once.

'Surely the warning you're giving me proves what kind of a man you are.'

He remained silent, and she felt she would melt under his relentless gaze.

'You're so sure the world will end tonight,' she continued, 'so who cares what we do?'

'And what is it that you want to do?'

Hermione desperately wanted to reply 'you', but even if the world was going to end, she wanted to leave this earth with some sense of decorum.

In the end she didn't have to say anything; the dangerous sparkle in his eyes showed he had read her thoughts.

'Meet me in an hour,' he whispered, his voice having disappeared.

She nodded and turned round to leave before he had the chance to change his mind, but, just as Lupin had done before, he ran towards her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him.

'Hermione,' he whispered in a deadly serious tone. She looked at him dead on, trying hard to make her quivering body respond less to his touch.

'If you're late, even by a few minutes, it can't happen. There's no time. Do you understand?' His grip on her was so hard, his voice so urgent.

She gulped before she nodded again. Finally, he let go of her and as Hermione felt her arm throb with pain from where he had grabbed her, she couldn't help but shiver at the thought of the night ahead and question whether she should go through with it at all…

* * *

Snape ran a frustrated hand through his hair. What the hell was he playing at? What was he doing?

Who was he kidding. He knew exactly what he was doing. The problem was, she didn't.

She didn't realise how mutual their attraction was, that the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the biting of her lips, the pure lust in her eyes, made his blood pump incredibly fast and his groin twitch with desire. But as a man of nearly forty, and as a well-trained spy and Occlumens, he knew well how to mask his emotions.

If everyone was going to hate him after tonight, why shouldn't he have a little fun now? After all, what was his reward for doing the right thing?

From the far end of the corridor he saw Potter walking towards him.

On seeing the boy, all self-doubt and questioning evaporated and Snape knew instantly what he had to do.

Everything made sense now. From the beginning, he knew exactly what he was meant to do. He just couldn't admit it to himself.

Snape quickened his pace towards the boy who wore a serious expression.

'Ah, Potter. Just the boy I wanted to see.'

The boy looked up his face looking somewhat relieved at the sight of his Professor.

'For once, the feeling is mutual _-'_

'-except, Potter, I am not a boy, I am a man and-'

The boy let out a growl of frustration.

'-look, _Sir_ – _Professor_ \- this is important,' there wasn't any sarcasm in his voice, just pure desperation. 'It's about Hermione.'

'Just the topic I wanted to discuss with you.'

'So you know? You know she is seeing someone from your House?'

Snape smirked, nonchalantly twirling his wand in his fingers as Potter grew more and more agitated.

'Who is it? Is it Draco? Is it Blaize? Professor, this is important. Which one of the Slytherin boys is she seeing?'

When the smiling Snape didn't answer, Harry earnestly added: ' _Please, Sir._ '

'Listen carefully, Potter,' Snape said, his smirk growing ever more sinister, 'she is not fooling around with a _boy,_ but with _a man._ '

A streak of puzzlement and worry furrowed through Harry's scarred forehead.

'Sir, this is serious, Hermione is seeing someone from your House and-'

'-for once in your life be quiet and pay attention: She's not seeing _a boy_.'

Harry seethed with frustration. 'You mean he's of age? That's practically the whole of seventh year!'

'Oh he's been of age for quite some time. Seventeen years in fact.'

There was a moment of silence where Snape swore he heard Harry's penny finally drop. As realization slowly but surely dawned on Harry, Snape's face split into a wide, satisfied smirk

'No,' Harry said quietly, his face going quite pale.

'Oh, yes.'

Harry shook his head.

'No,' he said again.

Snape casually examined the tips of his nails, before stretching his hand out to admire them from a distance. As far he was concerned, this was just any other mundane conversation with any other student.

'It's no surprise really, considering the options on offer in her own age range.'

'No,' Harry said, much more loudly.

Snape showed his teeth in a flash of a rare smile as Harry shook his head more vigorously, as if to shake the whole idea out of his head. 'I know you hate me because you loved my mother,' he began tersely, 'but you had no right to drag Hermione into this, to punish her because you couldn't be with my mother.'

Though his face didn't show it, Snape's heart skipped a beat. How did the boy know?

It took everything in his power to remain stony-faced, but his blood was roaring with rage.

Dumbledore had betrayed him, had handed over the last scrap of dignity he had to the son of the very man he still detested: Potter.

Potter. Potter. Always Potter.

Snape's eyes glittered threateningly. 'You're quite mistaken, I'm afraid. I didn't drag her into anything. Tonight, she will get what she has _begged_ for these past few months-' Snape's voice became dangerously low- ' a _man_ who can please her, not a clumsy, unexperienced teenage boy.'

The boy's fist was clenched around his wand, his whole body shaking.

'You see, Potter, in a few hours, it will be _I_ who gets the girl.'

'EXPELLIARMUS!'

Snape easily, almost lazily, deflected the spell.

'Run along, Potter. You don't want to be late for Dumbledore.'

Blood had rushed to Harry's head in a spectacular fashion, his raised wand quivering in his trembling hands.

'You're scum, you know that? You're fucking scum,' Harry spat, his face twisted in hatred. 'You're her fucking teacher. Is that the only way you can get some? By preying on students? Is that _why_ you've been teaching here all these years? So you can abuse little girls? Is it because your father abused _you_? Is it because your never mum loved you –'

Snape allowed the boy his little rant, but at the mention of his mother, he closed the distance between them, his face remaining an impassive mask.

'-for your information,' he whispered dangerously, 'Granger has been _begging_ _to suck my cock_. Tonight I will finally, _generously,_ grant her the honour.' He smirked and grabbed Harry's fist in the air mid-punch.

After twisting his hand into a painful position, he shoved the boy into the wall, and turned around to walk away. Without looking over his shoulder, he deflected a few spells the boy sent him. Eventually the boy gave up and Snape heard him run away.

Yes. Snape knew _exactly_ what he was doing…

* * *

On the one hand, Harry couldn't believe it.

On the other, it made perfect sense: Hermione was so scared to say who she had "fallen in love" with; Snape had completely overreacted when he saw him and Hermione together; and it was Snape who had given Ron the note. And it was Snape's cloak she was wearing the other day.

Yes. It all made perfect sense.

And now that he knew he was going away with Dumbledore on a special project – goodness knows whether he would come back alive or not – Snape had decided to torture him with the truth, precisely when Harry did not have the time to do anything about it.

But there was one person who did have the time.

Ron.

Harry ran to the Hospital Wing.

Ron sat up, immediately on the defense.

'Ron, I'm sorry, there's no time for apologies. We've both been idiots. But there's something much more serious happening. You've got to listen to me.'

Ron's breathing was fast, his fist clenched, ready for an attack or defense. But he didn't move an inch and nodded silently.

'Hermione's in trouble- and I mean serious trouble. She's been seeing Snape-' Ron's brow knitted in confusion.

'She thinks he's in love with him. But he's using her. He came and bragged to me, about – about what he's doing with her tonight. Tonight their going to-' Harry blanched, his face going pale at the thought of it.

Ron looked horrified and confused all at once. If this were a prank on him, it was a pretty tasteless one.

'He's just using her. For his own sick pleasure or even for Voldemort, or both. Ron, you have to stop her seeing him tonight. Promise me.'

Ron didn't move, his face still bearing an expression of shock, suspicion and confusion.

'Here,' Harry gave Ron the Felix Felicis Slughorn had awarded him last year, 'I've got a feeling you'll need it more than I do.'

Ron's expression finally became that of someone who understood the fully gravity of the situation.

Harry turned to leave.

'Wait,' Ron shouted, his voice a croak, 'I'm sorry, Harry, really I am.'

Harry stopped in his tracks and sighed heavily before facing his best friend once again.

'Not as sorry as I am,' he said earnestly. He smiled weakly before he finally headed to his ominous project with Dumbledore.

* * *

Ronald Weasley was the middle child and Potter's Best friend. He was not spectacularly good at anything apart from being mediocre. He was not good looking or rich. Why on earth would The Brightest Witch of their time want to be with him? And even if she did now, would she in the long run when the likes of international Quidditch stars vied for her attention?

These were the thoughts that had ran vicious circles in Ron's mind when he had laid next to Hermione in Grimmauld Place. She had asked him to stay. But he couldn't understand why. He would never be good enough for. He would always be Potter's and the Clever one's best friend. He would never be anything else. If he wanted her to be with him, he would have to be someone in his own right.

The thing is, he knew he wasn't the most good looking guy. But he knew that girls in Hogwart's _were_ interested in him. He thought, maybe, just maybe, he had that special something, that Je Ne Sais Quoi, that _thing_ that girls liked. Maybe that's what he could be – the guy everyone wanted to have because of some mysterious element to him. Like the patient sidekick who manages to save the day or the silent bass guitarist who knows he is no front-man but it is he who makes the band what it is.

The way Lavender threw herself at him made him feel like that. Like he was special, like he was someone. But he never meant to be with her. He just wanted to make Hermione see that other girls wanted him, that he had something that maybe she and Harry couldn't see. That he was more than just the average one in the group.

That night, when he had kissed Lavender, he knew Hermione was watching. When he opened his eyes mid-kiss, he wanted to see Hermione outraged and on the verge of a tantrum. But instead, her face had gone white, her eyes suddenly seemed dead. When he finally broke the kiss with Lavender, she was gone.

He thought that the more he was affectionate with Lavender, the more he would get a reaction out of Hermione. But she just distanced herself further away. She became thinner and her hair and style became completely different. She was just a shadow of the Hermione he knew. He never stopped watching her. And what was worse, now other boys were noticing her too.

He had driven her to Harry. He could see that now. He was so caught up in not feeling worthy; it never occurred to him that the Brightest Witch of Their Time might also be having the same problem; that by choosing Lavender over her, he had effectively confirmed that _she wasn't worthy of him._

Running to Harry he could understand. Just about. But to Snape? Had the stupid Weasley destroyed her that much, that she wanted the approval of the very man who had never and would never give it to her?

Ron had never thought so clearly in his life before. All this time he thought he had been the victim- that she had rejected him, or that she would eventually reject him.

 _But he had rejected her._

Only the stupidest boy in the world could've done that. He was so stupid. It was an honour to be Harry's and Hermione's friend. Why couldn't he see that?

There was no time to think about any of it now.

He would have to save the day. One way or another.

* * *

 **You do not need to review BUT if you do it would make me very happy :)**


	25. La vie est belle

**I know it's been a while. But here it is. Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione had washed her face and reapplied her makeup – she didn't make any drastic changes to her appearance this time; she just wanted to accentuate her features to make her feel special. Tonight, after all, would be the night she would lose her virginity. To Severus Snape.

The thought made her heart pound intensely. She was wearing the dress she wore to the party where she saw Ron and Lavender kiss. Someone had once told her that to let go of the past, you needed to make new memories. After tonight, this dress she wore would no longer signify her ignorance about boys, but would forever be the dress she had shed to finally become a woman.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she realized how much she had changed: finally, she had learned to tame her curls to tumble attractively around her face, finally she had learnt how to make her features look slimmer and more feminine. Finally, she felt like a girl who boys would find attractive. Even perhaps Ron.

But none of that mattered anymore. What did the opinion of any boy matter when a strong, clever, powerful man found her attractive? Not at all.

It was with that thought that she took a deep breath and put on high-heeled shoes, and draped a black, satin evening cloak over her shoulders to cover her dress as she walked through the corridors; a cloak that only just covered her bare knees.

After one final look in the mirror, Hermione descended the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The person she encountered at the bottom of the staircase, however, was the last person she expected, or wanted, to see.

Ron was standing there with his arms crossed, his bruised cheek and cut lip – injuries she had indirectly caused - were pulled into a grave expression.

After a moment of awkwardness where neither knew how to react, Hermione remembered Snape and his strict time limit, and made to the portrait hole.

'Hermione, I'm sorry,' he said just as she walked past him.

She stopped in her tracks. Had she heard him right?

'I'm sorry.' There, he said it again.

She turned around to see if he was joking. But he was deadly serious.

'For everything. I'm sorry for everything.'

Hermione's brows knit in confusion, her eyes searching his for any sign of sarcasm. But there was none. Where was this coming from? After her mind puzzled the question in vain, she patted him on his shoulder.

'That means a lot,' she said, not sounding like it meant anything at all, and then immediately made her way to the portrait hole.

She needed to see Snape.

Evidently, Ron wasn't done with the conversation: he darted in front of her, his towering figure blocking the exit entirely.

'Where are you going?'

'Ron, I appreciate your apology, really I do, but I need to be somewhere-'

'-where?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. Not having any time for games, she used her hands to physically push him to the side.

But he wouldn't move, not one bit.

'Seriously, get out of my way.'

'Tell me where you're going.'

'For the love of-'

-it's a simple question: Where. Are. You. Going?'

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

'You should know by now, that's none of your business.' She tried to keep her tone even but the iciness still bit through. Ron, to his credit, held her gaze evenly, accepting every bit of blame that radiated through her gaze.

But still, he wouldn't move.

'What's wrong with you?' she seethed.

'I know who you're going to see. That's what's wrong with me.'

Hermione let out a growl of frustration. 'It's not Harry, _not that it's any of your business._ ' Before she had only half-heartedly attempted to physically move him, hoping he would get the hint. Now, however, she used every shred of force in her to knock him to the ground. But he merely grabbed her arms tightly before she had the chance to bulldoze him over. If anyone had looked in on the scene it would almost seem like they were about to embrace. But the pain in Hermione's arms and the anguish in Ron's face said otherwise.

'Snape,' he said in a strained voice, 'you're going to see Snape.'

Hermione faltered for a split second. Her heart beat fast.

How the hell did he know? He couldn't know. And even if he did, he couldn't possibly know the whole truth.

Hermione pulled herself out of Ron's grip, and tossed back her hair.

'If you must know, I am indeed seeing _Professor_ Snape to discuss Order business,' she said nonchalantly. 'Now if you'll excuse me-'

But Ron still blocked the entrance, his arms out like a goalkeeper determined the ball would never ever hit the net.

'Don't you think you're a bit dressed up to see a _Professor?_ ' his eyes, refusing to give in to the temptation of travelling down her body, continued to pierce her.

Hermione's heart beat faster and faster. How could he know? He couldn't know, he couldn't possibly know-

'He's using you, Hermione, can't you see? He was boasting about sleeping with you to Harry. That's how I know.'

Her heart pumped so violently, she thought she was going to be sick.

'You have no idea what you're talking about,' she hissed.

It couldn't be true…

'I'm sorry, Hermione. I never meant for you to get involved-'

'-do you really think everything is about you? I knew you had a big ego, Ron, but I didn't realise it was this big.' She was furious, her whole body felt on fire.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really, truly, deeply sorry, for Lavender, for everything-'

'-do you really think you can just come along and say you're sorry and everything is ok?' She was hysterical, on the verge of tears. 'Do you really think that now you've decided so, everything can be ok? It's too late, Ron. You're too late.'

'You can't go to him. I'm serious,' Ron said, his own voice starting to break with the threat of tears. 'I won't let you. I don't care if you'll hate me forever, I don't care if we never speak again, but I will _not_ let you make the biggest mistake of your life.'

'You know what? The biggest mistake of my life was thinking I actually liked you. _Now get out of my way.'_ Hermione drew out her wand. It was, in reality, an empty threat. She hadn't been able to summon enough energy for a decent spell in months.

Ron raised his wand as well and spoke quietly. 'Do you know how to cast Aveda Kedavra? Because that's the only way you'll get past me'.

For a moment, Hermione was stunned into silence as she realized she had never seen Ron so truly, sincerely angry. Before she could think of her next move, she heard a shaky voice from behind her.

'If she wants to go, she can go.' It was Ginny.

Hermione growled in frustration and turned to face her ex-best-friend. Ginny's eyes were red and puffy. She was wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans and looked much smaller than Hermione remembered.

'Can you please tell your idiot brother to move.'

'If you want to go, no one can stop you. But, please, just hear me out first. I know about you and Snape. Harry told me.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Trust me, you don't know anything.'

'I do. I've seen you're scars. I know how badly you're hurt, how badly you're hurting.'

'Oh please!' Now Hermione was really angry. Who did they think they were? Did they really think they could just rock up here and boss her about?

'Hermione, I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, that I was so wrapped up in my own problems to help you.'

As if she hadn't heard Ginny, Hermione turned to Ron. 'Move. Now.'

Ron had a puzzled expression on his face. 'What does she mean by scars?'

Hermione raised her left arm from beneath her cloak to let him see her scars from Sectumsempra in all their glory.

Ron's red face instantly turned white. 'He did this to you?'

'No. I did this to me. You have no idea what I'm capable of. So if I were you, I'd move. Now.'

In complete shock, Ron watched as Hermione lowered her arm and came right up close to him. ' _Move.'_

He stared at her with a broken expression, before he reached in his pocket.

'Take this,' he said, handing her the Felix Felicus, 'you're going to need it.'

Hermione gritted her teeth. Somewhere in her subconscious she acknowledged that it was a big move for him to hand her the potion he had envied Harry for having so much. But at that moment, she was more insulted than impressed.

'No thanks,' she seethed.

'Wait,' Ginny cried from behind, 'if- if you really love him, you can be with Harry... I - I don't mind… _please_ don't go to Snape. All I really want is for us to be friends. Like before. _'_ Her words almost had an effect on Hermione. Was Ginny really willing to give up Harry?

At the end of the day all of these words and selfless gestures were simply a little too late. Why did it take for her to sleep with Snape for them to want to help her?

 _Sleep with Snape._

That's what she was about to do. The very thought of the mysterious man made her knees tremble and her stomach flutter with nervous, excited butterflies making her forget all about Ron and Ginny.

Sure, he had revealed their secret to taunt Harry, but she knew what kind of a man he was when she had signed up for this.

With a steely determination, she turned her back on a distraught Ginny and Ron and finally made her way through the portrait hole, hoping she wasn't too late to see Snape.

But as she briskly walked through the corridors and down to the dungeons in her heels which caused a sharp pain in her calves and at the balls of her feet every time her shoes hit the ground, she realized something wasn't right.

How on earth did Snape expect Harry to take the news lying down? Did he expect to just taunt Harry and then for him to forget about it?

Even though she knew she was cutting it fine time-wise, Hermione suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her mind and heart pounding furiously as she, reluctantly, finally realized the truth…

….Snape had planned this: Snape had planned for Harry to- somehow- stop her.

Hermione began to run at break-neck speed to his office, the pain from her shoes battling desperately with the pain tightening in her chest.

Snape's actions only meant one thing - he had never intended to sleep with her...

* * *

Dumbledore had always said Snape was a clever man, but unfortunately he was too clever. Too clever for Slytherin that's for sure. The Sorting Hat should have chosen Ravenclaw or Gryffindor at a push. It was moments like this that Snape agreed entirely with Dumbledore: he was too clever for his own good.

He had told the boy everything in the hope that he would get his friends to stop Hermione from visiting him tonight. But even now when, as the clock struck the hour, he knew he had been successful, he couldn't help feeling disappointed that she hadn't arrived. It was his one chance at just a few happy moments. Why couldn't he allow himself just that?

But as the door suddenly burst open, and the girl was standing there as beautiful and innocent as ever, he knew why: it was wrong. Plain wrong.

'Did you really think that they would've stopped me?'

He stared at her in silence, his face an unmovable mask.

'Isn't that what you wanted?' There was a light perspiration on her forehead, her legs shook under her impossibly thin, high heels, her body was covered in a black cloak, which, if her face was anything to go by, would reveal a body prepared for him.

'I was saving you,' he said finally.

'How noble of you. And along the way, you taunted me and my friends and ruined my life. Those were all just perks of saving me from myself, were they?' her eyebrows were raised high in accusation.

'I was saving you from _me_.'

' _You_ were the one who suggested we meet.'

Snape couldn't hold her gaze any longer. She was right. He couldn't deny the satisfaction of seeing her choose him – choose him over her friends, _over Potter_.

All this time he had pretended the girl was obsessed with him because she needed validation. But the reality of the situation was that it was _he_ who needed validation.

If the muscle that allowed him to genuinely laugh hadn't been inactive for over seventeen years, he probably would have chuckled, or smiled at least at this ridiculous but true realization. All he could manage, however, was a sneer, a sneer that instantly reduced her angry face into hurt eyes and quivering lips.

'Did you just do all this to mock me?' her wavering voice may have shattered Snape on the inside, but his cruel, taunting façade refused to even falter for a split second.

'Because of you,' he began slowly, making sure she understood every single syllable, 'I've lost control of my temper, my magic, and my ability to reason. Not just once, but many times. Surely, deep down, underneath all your insecurities which you have used to imprison your bright mind,' Snape paused, 'you know the effect you have on me.'

His voice was so even, his penetrating stare so unforgiving, he was sure she hadn't really heard what he had said.

But as her cheeks delicately tinged red and her chest rose and fell more rapidly, he knew she had.

The girl bravely took a step closer towards him.

Once again, she had been able to see past his exterior, the role he had to play, to see what he really meant, what he really wanted.

She unclasped her cloak to let it fall to the floor.

Snape gulped at the sight before him, the sight she had wanted only for him to see tonight. Not Potter. No one else. But him.

'And you must know by now that I'm...,' the girl began breathlessly, '…I'm in love with you…'

'You think you are.'

'I am.'

This girl, who was selflessly offering him everything when he had only given her cruelty, sent a shimmer of doubt through his normally iron-clad resolve. What if there really was hope? What if letting himself love her would rescind some of his sins? After all, you only needed one atom's worth of light in an ocean of darkness to have chance to make it to shore. It was a small chance, but a chance none the less.

But even if all the clichés were right - even if love could save him, he wouldn't let it.

This grave he had willingly chosen, he had chosen himself.

And he would lie in it alive.

This decision, which he had made many years ago, he would honor to the end.

Snape had no choice.

He had to show her what kind of a man he really was.

'Miss Granger, give me your hand…'

The girl obliged.

With his eyes never leaving hers, Snape lowered his head to kiss her knuckles, whispering a spell as he did so…

* * *

A searing scream split the air in the room as white hot pain shot through Hermione's arm. A blackness surrounded her, and even though she couldn't feel anything but the piercing pain in her arm, she knew she had hit the ground.

When she came to, the pain had reduced to a slow throb.

Snape was gone.

She didn't know then, but she would never see him again.

Not alone anyway.

Her brain was completely shut off, apart from the part which could focus on the now and the immediate future. With her arm cradled against her stomach, she returned to Gryffindor tower.

'Hermione!' Ginny gasped at the sight of her friend 'You didn't see Snape… You came back! I knew you would….'

Hermione merely nodded before Ginny flung herself at her best friend, and Hermione had to shield her painful, heavy arm from the embrace. Across Ginny's shoulder, Hermione saw Ron's eyes fill with tears before he looked away.

Hermione pushed Ginny gentlyback and took a deep breath.

'Listen,' she said in a tone that made both Ron and Ginny swallow anything they were about to say, 'let's just forget everything. Everything that's happened today, these past few months, since the beginning of this year. There's something big happening in Hogwarts tonight - let's just focus on that. Afterwards, we will sort everything out. Ok?'

But even after the war, they never did discuss it ever again.

The other two nodded.

They all embraced in a hug.

All was well.

That night, when Hermione learnt that Snape had killed Dumbledore, she felt nothing. Her brain refused to process anything. It was only when she heard Snape had fled Hogwarts, did she have the courage to pull back her sleeve and look at her arm. Her scars from Sectumsempra were all gone – instead there was writing, three words in black, gothic script etched into her skin. Three words she had been dying to hear for what felt like a lifetime: _you are beautiful._

Instantly, those black words staring at her made her feel so sick and ashamed that she had wanted - no _needed_ \- so desperately to hear those words from such a man, or any man for that matter. But especially him. He had killed Dumbledore without any sign of remorse. There was no good in him at all. How had she been so stupid?

Never able to find an answer to this question. Hermione simply learnt to block out the memories of him entirely and either charmed to conceal the writing or wore long-sleeved tops that she refused to take off even in the heat.

But sometimes, especially when they were on the run, Hermione's mind would wonder... What about the connection they had had? What about the words he had permanently burned into her arm - were they all lies? Had she imagined them? She must have. Look at what he was doing. He had turned Hogwarts into an academy for Deatheaters…

…

The last time she saw him was when he died. He took one look at her before he asked Harry to stare him in the eyes.

The next day, a jet black raven brought her a letter.

It informed her that the Patent Rights for "Sectumsemrpa" had been passed to her from the previous owner who was now deceased. As the new Intellectual Owner of a Dark Spell, she had the right to decide whether to ban persons under the age of 17 from using it on anyone including themselves. She agreed.

...

She knew the truth now. She knew that he loved Lily. That Harry had reminded him of James, that she had merely been an echo of a ghost of someone he had once loved, if that.

She was grateful that the memories he provided Harry did not contain her. The people most important to her - Harry, Ron, Ginny, and McGonagall - knew the truth. The whole world didn't need to know. Gratefully, no one, not even McGonagall, ever brought up the subject of her and Snape's brief relationship around her. It was always assumed that, at some point after the war, they would discuss it. But the deaths of their loved ones had cleansed all memories and marks of the past.

Almost.

Harry never knew about her scars from Sectumsempra. And Ron never asked again. Even when they saw the writing on her arm: they assumed it was a symbolic tattoo to remind herself of her own strength.

It was only after the war had ended did she try to find methods of removing the writing. But even after countless of advanced Healers had looked at her arm, even after trying Muggle laser surgery, the writing would not move. Hermione noticed, that in the times she was happiest, the scar had almost faded completely. But whenever she had a serious argument with her husband, Ron, whenever she felt like running to Harry –Ginny's husband - she would see the scar as bold as ever.

Forever etched into her skin would be his voice saying: _you are beautiful…_


End file.
